Enough Nemesis To Go Around
by Mislav
Summary: [Complete.] My take on season three premiere. Sherlock and Joan don't expect to meet anytime soon, but they fall back into each other's orbit. Case!fic!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this. **

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**This is just a prologue, and therefore very short. Other chapters will be longer, at least one thousand words. The prologue is based on the beginning of the screenplay written for the first episode of season three, published on Tumblr. It reads: "INT.-RESTAURANT-DAY, JOAN WATSON sits opposite". Title of the story is the same like the episode title.**

Joan was sitting at the table in the restaurant, opposite to Sherlock. She bit her lower lip before checking her watch, growing impatient.

"Is it time?"

Sherlock sighed. "It is." He took a sip of water as his eyes flew over the restaurant, stopping on the front door. "There she is, coming inside in this very moment."

Joan glared briefly at the front door before moving her head back to face Sherlock. "And now we watch."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language. **

**This is a list of actors and actresses supposed to portray my OC's, just to make everything more exciting anc episode-like**

**OC Actor/Actresses**

**Judith Morgan=Bianca Kajlich**

**Gary Morgan=DJ Qualls**

**Zoey=Maggie Lawson**

**Shanna Heffernan=Tiffany Hines**

**Allison David=Kate Micucci**

**George Truby=Justin Berfield**

**Emma Teegher=Jennifer Taylor**

**William Zachary=Larry Romano**

**I heard that some viewers complain that they can guess who the killer is. Hopefully I managed to avoid that :)**

**I apologize in advance for possible OOC-ness. I know that many things have yet to be explain: they will be in later chapters, I promise.**

~FIVE MONTHS PRIOR~

May 15th, 2014

Joan sighed, putting her phone down on the table.

It was over. She found the apartment and she was going to move out the very next week.

She had to tell Sherlock. No matter how hard it was, she had to make him realize that it is over. That she found the apartment.

When she went downstairs, she realized that Sherlock isn't in the living room. Or in the kitchen, or in the bathroom. He wasn't in the brownstone at all.

But there was a note on the kitchen table. Even before she picked it up and read it, Joan realized that it was written by Sherlock: she immediately recongnized his clean and firm handwriting.

My dear Watson,

due to a change that big, happening in your life, I feel a need to make changes in my life too. So I am planning to start working for MI6. Meaning that I will probably have to move back to London, for at least some time.

I know that you wanted to live in your own apartment and continue working with me. But I am not ready to accept that. So I need to distance myself from you for a while. I need something to keep me occupied. Something more than the mere crime solving here, in New York. Something more complex.

Please understand that I am not doing this to get back at you or to make you stay in the brownstone. This is the best for both of us. We obviously can't just keep going like we did for the last two years. We need to take a break from each other, decide what we really want to do with our lives and, if it is possible, re-build our partnership in the future.

I am still not sure is this to best way to sort out our problems, but it is the best one I can think off at the moment.

This will be hard for both of us, but I hope that you do understand that this has to be done.

Please take a good care of yourself and Clyde and don't give up on being a detective.

Yours sincerely,

Sherlock Holmes."

Joan put the note down, feeling her heart thundering against her chest. That couldn't be true. She knew Sherlock, she knew that he was never a joking type, but she couldn't believe that what was written in the note was true. She immediately took her IPod and tried to contact Sherlock. No response. It appeared that he turned his cellphone off.

She ran upstairs, in Sherlock's room, and opened his closet. All of his clothing was gone. His ID's and money too.

It really happened. He left.

Mycroft abandoned her and Sherlock. And now Sherlock abandoned her.

~FIVE DAYS PRIOR~

October 25th, 2014

Joan shivered at the feeling of cold October wind playing with her hair, smell of decomposing corpse burning through her nostrils. It was a nice, sunny, albeit cold day And she, captain Gregson and detective Bell were in Central Park, standing in front of the ditch in where naked body of a young woman, in pretty bad state of decomposition, laid."

Victim is a young Caucasian woman", Thomas read. "Blonde hair, blue eyes. She has no ID's. This morning, hikers found her body in a ditch, covered with some branches. It appears that she was here for weeks. She is naked, unless you count the shoes and socks that are still on, her wrists are binded with some kind of a rope and she is gaged with some kind of a cloth. There are traces of dust on them, forensics are going to determine which kind and where did it come from. It looks like she was raped and strangled. She also has a facial contusion, a bruise on the left side of her face and cuts on her body."

"We found eyeglasses in a ditch next to a body. Probably hers, they match to the mark found on the bridge of her nose. The ground is hard, there are no usable shoe prints or tyre tracks around. We also found articles of clothing scattered around, dirty and in a bad condition. Probably hers, the size matches."

They both paused to watch Joan examining the body. Her facial expression and look in her eyes looked like a mixture of Sherlock's cold and analytical look and her struggling to understand why would anyone want to do something like that to another human being.

Eventually, Bell said the only think he could think off at the moment.

"So, what do you think?"

Joan answered almost immediately. "Well... victim's wrists are binded with the hard rope, the one used in construction works. The knot is also the one used in that kind of business. Similar with the cloth used to as a gag. Dust found on rope and cloth that has yet to be identified probably came from a construction sight." The ground is hard and weeks passed, there are no usable shoe prints or tyre tracks, but bottoms of victim's shoes are almost completely clean. Meaning that she wasn't murdered here, she was murdered elsewhere and moved here, and it also means that the killer carried her here, not dragged her. Considering victim's height and weight, to do that, he must be at least... two hundred pounds weight, probably more. Judging by the facial contusion, he punched her in the head first, knocking her unconsciousness, then undressed her, binded and gaged her... marks on her neck... she was moving her head back and forth, she was alive when she was raped and murdered. He waited for her to wake up after tying her up her. He is extremely violent individual, a sadist. Judging by a position of a contusion, the killer is probably 5'10, right handed. He probably transported body in a trunk: bruise on the left side of her face was probably caused by a tyre iron. Judging by the size of the body marks under her knees and shape of the bruise, I think that our killer probably owns an SUV, older model. "

She moved on to studying victim's clothing, stored in evidence bags that were lying on the bench near by. It lasted for almost a half of house before she finally spoke. "He used some sharp object to cut her clothing, probably a switchblade. That explains cuts on her body. By the look of her clothing, she was probably coming home from work where she was attacked... there are not many apartments in the area... in order to move the body here, without being seen, the killer had to owe a car."

"I think that she worked as a secretary." "This shirt is in a pretty bad condition, but I can still see coffee and ink stains on the sleeve area... and, judging by the fact that she has neatly trimmed fingernails and was wearing eyeglasses, she probably used to type on a computer a lot." She took a closer look at the shirt. "She was definitely wearing this shirt when she was attacked, there are traces of blood." Then she moved on to the pants. "There are small traces of blood on the pants too, and also stains that seem to be caused by multiple kinds of car oil, smeared, on the back side of the pants. After attacking her, killer probably dragged her in some empty garage, put her down on the floor, undressed her, binded her wrists, gaged her mouth, raped her, strangled her, put the body in his own car and drove it here. He probably attacked her while she was leaving her workplace. If she was at home, she probably wouldn't be wearing that kind of clothing, unless he attacked her when she just came home. But who has car oil stains coming from multiple cars in his or hers apartment? If she was just going towards her workplace when he attacked her, she wouldn't wear a stained shirt." She took a closer look at the shoes. "Like I said, shoe bottoms are pretty clean. But not completely. There are no traces of dirt or mud. But there are several small, barely noticeable pieces of glitter attached to the bottom of each shoe. And one black thread. Judging by the fact that it shows little to no signs of decomposition, unlike the victim's clothing, it is probably the high quality one."

Finally finishing her exclamation, Joan turned her attention to Gregson and Marcus. "You are looking for a man, about 5'10 tall and between two hundred and two hundred and twenty pounds weight, right handed, probably with the history of sex offences, who works as a construction worker and owns an SUV and a switchblade. Victim is blonde Caucasian, blue-eyed woman in mid to late twenties, about 5'10 tall and one hundred and twenty pounds weight, who wears eyeglasses. She worked as a secretary in a firm specialized in fashion design for at least couple of years up until her death and probably didn't own a car ."

Silence that followed lasted for almost a minute, until it was broken by Marcus.

"That was... impressive", he said.

Joan forced smiled. "Well, I need to work and think for the two now, don't I?" She sighed. "Don't worry, I will never be a female version of Sherlock. My personality remains exactly the same, only my skills... developed further."

Marcus gave her a faint smile as Joan made her way out of the track, toward her car.

Joan tried not to think, not to think about the case, not to think about Sherlock, not to think about... betrayal. She knew that she couldn't just keep suppressing her thoughts forever, but she always wanted to leave them for privacy of her own home. She made it through the whole last week without crying or even considering that she should be blaming herself, but she didn't want to take any chances.

Just when she was about to unlock her apartment door, she heard an unfamiliar voice.

"Excuse me... are you Joan Watson?"

Joan turned around and glared at the young woman standing in front of her, still holding her apartment keys in her hand. "Yes... may I know who's asking?"

"I'm Judith Morgan." "Man, this is going to sound weird. I meant to talk to you this morning, but just when I arrived I saw you driving away so I followed you to the crime scene... I saw you helping those detectives, so I followed you back here and... anyway, I want to hire you. I really need your help."

Joan carefully studied Judith. She wasn't wearing gloves, have a small purse over her shoulder, she was holding a wet tissue in her hand and few other tissues were sticking out of her right jeans pocket. She was also red around the eyes and the nose. Deducing that this woman means her no harm and that she obviously needs her help, she finally said: "Sure, come in."

Ten minutes later, Joan and Judith were sitting opposite to each other at a kitchen table, drinking a warm tea and discussing the matter.

"My brother, Gary Morgan, went missing", Judith explained. "He was twenty five years old and worked in web design company for the last two years. He lived in Brooklyn, I live on Manhattan. His boss reported him missing after he didn't show up for work for two days and wasn't answering his calls. That's how I found out. When police went to question me. He wasn't at his apartment. His car was missing. All of his clothing was missing, and so did the money and the ID's... The apartment door was locked, they found the key in front of the building. In a gutter. No signs of violence, they said. They checked his computer and phone records but said that they didn't find anything suspicious. They tried to track him via cellphone signals and social networks, but that turned out to be a dead end. He has been gone for two weeks now, I don't know what to do..." Judith ran her hands down her face, trying not to cry. "I know that he didn't have any enemies and wasn't dating currently but I just know that he wouldn't just leave... something happened to him. Our parents died in a car accident ten years ago, he's the only one I have left."

Joan gave her a warm, compassionate look. "I'm really sorry to hear that."

Judith just nodded her head, looking away for a moment before turning back to face Joan. "I heard about you. If you could just... search his apartment, I have an extra key... maybe find something that police overlooked. I will pay you, that's not the problem... just please, find my brother."

Joan thought for a moment before answering. "OK. I am going to do that."

#

An hour later, Joan was already in the victim's apartment, latex gloves pulled over her hands, extra key tucked safely inside the purse that was hanging over her right shoulder.

The apartment didn't look like much at first. Not really big, really tidy, with pale white walls and brown hardwood floor. Joan spent first five or ten minutes walking around the apartment, looking for anything unusual or out of place. The investigation that she was conducting was constantly reminding her of Sherlock, but she did her best to stay concentrated and suppress her emotions.

Just when she was about to loose hope, she noticed something on the floor in the victim's bedroom, stuck under the chair that was positioned in front of his writing desk. Something green.

"What is this?", she whispered to herself, bending over before picking the object up and inspecting it closely. It was some sort of a leaf. She wasn't sure how could that help her at the moment, but she still decided to keep it. She took an evidence bag out of the right pocket of her jeans, put the leaf in it, sealed the bag and put it back in her pocket.

With that discovery in mind, she continued inspecting the room. It took her a while, but she finally noticed something strange. Scuff marks around the air vent above the writing desk.

"Those marks...", she whispered to herself. "Like somebody was taking the girder off and putting it back on a lot lately."

She inspected pens in the cup on the writing desk closely and found the one with similar scuff marks, so she climbed on the chair and used the pen to removed the girder. She put the girder and the pen down on the desk, took a flashlight out of the left pocket of her jeans, turned it on and directed the light inside the air vent. She noticed something inside, so she put the flashlight down on the desk and reached inside the air vent, pulling the mysterious objects out. She climbed off the chair and inspected the object closely.

First object was a stack of money: mostly twenty and fifty dollar bills. About five hundred dollars in total.

The bills looked pretty ordinary at first, but upon closer examination, Joan noticed that each bill had a mark written in it's lower right corner: a little red X sign. Second object was a red marker, it's cap still on.

She stored the objects in two separate evidence bags, putting them in the right pocket of her jeans. She turned the flashlight off before putting it back in her pocket, then put the air vane girder back on before storing the pen that she used to remove it and then put it back on in an evidence bag too.

She moved on to searching the drawers, closets, looking under the mattress, even in trash cans and refrigerator. Drawers were filled with old papers and pornography, things that police just left there without paying much attention to it; closet was completely empty and there was nothing under the mattress. But the next clue was in the fridge: an ice cream box. Most of the groceries inside the refrigerator where fresh, judging by their looks and expiration dates: ice cream box was put among that groceries, but it looked much paler and older. Joan read an expiration date written on the box: July 15th, 2014. She took the box and opened it: it looked empty at first, but upon a closer examination, she noticed some white residue on the bottom. She closed the fridge door and put the ice cream box down on the kitchen table, then took one of the plastic containers containing a cotton swab from her back pocket and used that swab to take a sample of that white residue before putting the swab back in the container and putting the container back in her pocket. Figuring that it wouldn't hurt to examine all possible leads, she stored the ice cream box in one of the evidence bags and then put it in her purse.

#

It wasn't the first time since he was stationated in London that James Walter called Sherlock in his office for a personal conversation, usually wanting him to take a look at one of the cases outside the UK. But as he found himself sitting in James Walter's office on that cold October afternoon, Sherlock felt that this time was special, and he was right.

"It has to do with one of our agents. Adrian Eggers. He got... careless."

Sherlock crossed his legs, glaring at the older man. "What do you mean by that?", he asked.

James sighed and sat down on the armchair, opposite to Sherlock. "He... got involved in a sexual relationship with a young woman. An... exotic dancer."

Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow.

"It happened in New York, Brooklyn. He was stationed there for the last year, investigating a big case of weapon smugling. He met her while following one of the people he was supposed to surveillance into a strip club where she worked. The tip turned out to be false, but... the short time that he spent there was enough for him and that woman to end up forming a... relationship."

"He was at her home several times. He would always contact her via a burner, and instructed her to keep their relationship a secret. It lasted for about a month. A week ago, somebody murdered that woman. In her apartment."

"And you are afraid that some forensic evidence found on the scene may be linked to that particular agent."

"That man also gained a knowledge of victim's personal habits during the time they would... enjoy each other's company. He knows that she detaily cleans her apartment every Saturday. She was murdered on Monday. He last saw her on Thursday. Also, they were always... safe. We doubt that any evidence found on the scene can be linked to him." He sighed and ran his hands down his thighs. "But... somebody, presumably her killer, stole several things from her apartment. Her laptop, among other things. Inside that laptop is a certain... tape. Tape that can prove that the two of them were involved. Sexually. And her necklace was also stolen. Very unique and expensive necklace that he brought to her a week before she was murdered. We already know that he didn't kill her. We managed to confirm that he has an alibi for the time of the murder. But even if we can prove that he didn't kill her, if the police manages to link her with him, his position in MI6 could be revealed, and also some of the operations that we conducted in New York. We don't even have to explain what kind of a scandal that would cause."

"So, you want me to find the murderer and recover the stolen goods before their relationship is made public."

"Exactly." James handled him over the file. Sherlock took it, opened it and started reading the police and forensic reports. "We managed to obtain this informations via one of our contacts in New York. Victim's name is Alyssa Smith. Twenty two years old."

"She lived in the rent apartment in Brooklyn for the last two years. A week ago at about five am her neighbor, forty years old Michael Gray, called 911 and reported hearing two gunshots from her apartment. Police arrived about seven minutes later. The door was unlocked. They found her in the living room, lying on the floor, dead. She was shot once in the stomach and once in the head, with a .45 callibar gun-no match in IBIS, partially undressed and barefoot. It appeared that she was shot while getting ready to go to college, since she worked at night. She was studying literature. Killer picked up the shell casings. Apartment and the area around the building were searched, but the gun wasn't find. All the blood found on the scene belonged to the victim herself. There were no traces of breaking and entering, meaning that she let the killer in. Autopsy showed that the gunshot wounds were the cause of her death. All toxicology tests turned clean-no traces of alcohol or drugs found in her system. No DNA was find under her fingernails either. There were no traces of sexual assault. Sex kit recovered no semen. Fingerprints recovered in victim's apartment belonged to the victim herself and her friend and co-worker, Emma Teegher, who admitted being at her apartment numerous times, including the morning before the murder." He took a sip of water. "We already know that they don't match to Adrian or any of our agents."

"Emma also said that one of the clients, twenty nine years old George Truby, harassed Alyssa a few times on her workplace", Sherlock read. "Phone records prove that George was calling her repeatedly in the days before the murder. Other than that, she was usually calling friends and family. George refused to give his fingerprints and DNA sample, but so far they don't have enough evidence to link him to the murder. Neighbor who reported the shooting is divorced and lives alone, he was previously convicted of domestic violence. He has no alibi but he doesn't own a firearm and they tested his hands and face for traces of GSR that morning. The result was negative. The same with Emma and George. Emma managed to list the idoms stolen from the apartment: Alyssa's laptop, necklace and some more of her jewelry, including her wrist watch, then her toster and some of her money. Several of her bras and panties, mostly the ones she would wear while dancing, were also missing, so there might be some sexual element in the case, although she wasn't sexually assaulted."

"In that seven minutes, killer had more than enough time to burglarize the apartment and flee", James concluded.

Sherlock continued reading. "There was a security camera in the elevator, but it didn't tape anything important that morning. Killer used the stairs. There was also a security camera outside in front of the front door and one in front of the back door. The one in front of the front door didn't record anything important, so the killer probably came in and out through the back door. That camera was broken at the time. Fingerprints and traces of DNA were found on the back door, but there was too many of different samples mixed that it ultimately proved to be a dead end. Smeared traces of gunshot residue were also found on the back door." Sherlock closed the file and raised his head, facing James. "I have to admit, this is an interesting case. With what I have right now, I can look more info it, maybe provide some advice, but I am not sure will I be able to solve it with what I have so far or how long would it take me to do so."

James sighed, eying Sherlock. "Actually, Mr. Holmes, due to a complexity of the case and things that are at stake here, we want you to go to New York and conduct your investigation there."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**I read, on Tumblr, about lots of changes that are due to happen in season three. I notice that lots of people are worried about that. I say: don't worry, guys! You know that in canon stories Sherlock Holmes faked his death and didn't return to work with Watson until four years after? That period is known as great hiatus. This is Elementary's version of great hiatus. In this version Mycroft fakes his own death due to his problems with Le Milieu and Sherlock moves away from Watson and joins MI6 in order to deal with changes in his life (and possibly try to resolve Mycroft's problems so he wouldn't have to be in hiding forever hmmm?). Every adaptation of Sherlock Holmes dealt with that and so does Elementary. They have to, it's a big part of a canon and Sherlock Holmes's character. Of course, there will be lots of changes, but that is necessary: you can't expect Sherlock Holmes to simply get back to Watson after a year or so and then everything returning back to normal. That ain't a real life. But remember that this show is a work of a writers who already gave us brilliant forty eight episodes of this crime drama. There will be complications but they will be resolved. Sherlock and Joan will fall back into each other's orbit and live happily ever after. (If anyone share my opinion, please post some comforting words on Tumblr, I am planning to create a Tumblr account but I simply can't get enough time.)**

**And now, on to this story!**

James words felt like a slap over face to Sherlock. He twitched at the feeling of cold shivers going down his spine and cleared his throat, doing his best to stay calm. "I don't need to remind you how risky that is, mr. Walter. Some of the people that I knew and worked with while I was living in New York weren't happy with me leaving. If we meet, that could cause many... complications that may put the investigation in jeopardy."

"We know that", James said, "but, with all due respect, this case is much more important than your... disagreements with people that you left behind in New York. You are one of the best agents we have when it comes to a deduction skills, but we want to be absolutely sure that you will have all informations available while you are conducting this investigation. That is very important, and the best way to make that available to you is putting you in New York City. You will have access to crime scene, her family, friends, workplace..." He smiled at Sherlock. "Also, knowing your discretion and disguise skills, I am sure that you will be able to avoid any that you may meet with while conducting your investigation."

Sherlock clasped his hands and sighed, obviously still unsure whether or not he should accept that mission. "This job includes risks of many kind and requires lots of responsibility", James said, his voice a bit harsher. "You knew that when you decided to work for us. If you want to continue working for us, you are going to take this mission."

Sherlock frowned before looking down at the floor, and then at James once again.

#

Within an hour after her discovery, Joan was sitting at the Marcus Bell's desk, opposite to him. Idoms that she found in Gary's apartment were already laying on his desk.

"His sister hired me and gave me a key to his apartment. I found this in his apartment", she said, pointing at the idoms. "A leaf... it's hard to identify it without real forensic analysis since the two weeks had passed... money and a marker hidden in an air vent... some white residue in the ice cream box in his fridge... here's the box itself. I know that this isn't your case, but I was hoping that maybe you can get this on forensic analysis."

Marcus thought for a moment before answering. "OK, I'll do that, but it may take a day or two."

"There were little red X signs written on the bills. If you could check are there cases involving something similar or try to track serial numbers..."

"Sure", Marcus smiled, nodding his head. Then he picked up a file from the table, putting the idoms aside. "About that body found in Central Park... based on what we already knew and clues that you provided us with, we managed to identify the victim in less than two hours. Greta Williams, twenty seven. She went missing twenty days ago. She didn't come home from work and her live-in boyfriend reported her missing. Greta worked as a secretary in, company specialized in fashion design, for the last four years. Based on your description, we managed to narrow our search down to one sex offender, forty years old Ian Prentiss. He wasn't a suspect at first because he didn't live or work close to the victim's apartment or her workplace but after what you said this morning we investigated him a little more and found out that he frequented a car wash near Greta's workplace for the last couple of months. We managed to obtain arrest warrant and search warrant and we arrested him an hour ago. Captain Gregson is at his apartment at this very moment with forensic team, we are searching his apartment and car, looking for evidence to tie him to the murder." He smiled. "So... thank you. Again."

Joan smiled. "You're welcome." She took a deep breath and looked down on the floor. "Thank you too... for being such a support after... he left."

Marcus nodded his head. "No need to."

#

Joan woke up with a groan, at the sound of her IPod ringtone. Brief glare on an alarm clock revealed her that it was eight am.

She picked up her phone. It was Marcus. She answered.

"Hello?"

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No... well, a little. Is there something new?" "Forensics analysed the white substance that you found in the ice cream box. That was heroin. It will take them some time to finish analysing all the other stuff though. I tried to track serial numbers, but that turned out to be a dead end. Also, there are no reported cases involving X signs drawn on the bills."

Joan sighed. "I guess I'll just to have to talk with the store owners working in areas close to his apartment."

"You want the bills back?"

"No, I took photographs."

#

Going around town and showing people photographs of dollar bills wasn't fun or comfortable, but Joan didn't have another choice. Finally, after hours of searching, she found a store owner who recognized the bill. "Yes, I think that I remember... one girl, Alyssa Smith, was buying groceries here about two weeks ago. One of the bills that she used to pay me had that sign drawn on it. I didn't give it much thought at the time."

"Where does she live?"

"About two blocks away, in that big grey building. But I hear that somebody murdered her a week ago. They say a burglar or something."

Joan frowned. The case just took a turn that she didn't expect.

#

The very next day, early in the morning, Sherlock managed to track down the owner of the apartment, and before noon, they were already in the building where murder happened, walking up the stairs to an apartment where Alyssa was murdered (elevator got broken day before). Sherlock still felt uncomfortable wearing a blonde wig and having his beard shaved but knew that he had to keep his cover.

"Just for your information, I still feel uncomfortable with letting you in the victim's apartment. You say that you work as a consultant for NYPD and showed me identifications to support your claim, but I didn't see or hear of you during the first week of investigation and there is nobody with you to support your claim."

Sherlock shrugged. "Most of the consultants work alone. Also, you have nothing to loose. If anything, I am going to help police solve the case and may save the last remains of dignity and good reputation that your apartment has."

They continue walking in silence for several minutes, until Sherlock spoke.

"So, I understand that you, Zoey, are the owner of the apartment?"

"Yes. I have been renting it for the last four years. I was in Canada when the murder happened. Apartment is still empty, I didn't find a new renter yet." She sighed, . "I doubt that I will, after what happened." "Here we are", Zoey said, pulling out her keys. She unlocked and opened the door, letting the Sherlock in. He stepped inside first, followed by her.

Sherlock's mind immediately started analyzing, noticing, deducing. He forgot to even pay attention to Zoey, or anything else.

Zoey finally spoke. "Should I leave you here alone or...?"

Sherlock ignored her question, proudly exclaiming what he had deduced that far. "There is some residue on the floor. By the look and smell of it, it is, obviously, a drop of a gun oil. On the floor in her room. It's smeared: forensics took a swab, but cleaning crew overlooked it. There's a similar trace on the living floor, in front of the room door, but I see no similar traces anywhere in the apartment. There are no traces of cleaning either, except for the spots on walls and the floor where were, obviously, traces of her blood: those traces were obviously cleaned using bleach. Meaning that the killer rushed into her room, holding a gun in his hand, almost immediately after shooting her. And yet, according to her best friend's statement, on the table next to a spot where her body was found, was a very nicely designed jewelry box, easily noticeable, that was stolen. Similar stain was found on the T-shirt that she was wearing when she was murdered, too. She had marks and scars on her neck and right wrist, meaning that she was already wearing a necklace and her wrist watch when she was shot and that the killer took them after shooting her. Blood was dripping over her right hand, but there's a clean area on her wrist, matching to the watch impression. Judging by the crime scene photos, it would take at least few minutes for her blood to get to her right hand, meaning that the killer took her necklace, laptop and presumably her bras and panties-the only other things that she kept in her room that were stolen-first and then moved on to the other idoms, despite the fact that the said other idoms were closer. This wasn't a botched robbery. The motive was personal and the killer wanted that laptop, that necklace and that bras and panties, he, or she, stole that idoms first and then tried to estage the crime as a botched robbery."

Zoey glared at him, not quite sure what to say. Sherlock didn't seem to mind: he moved his attention on to the book case next to the writing desk.

"All the books in this bookcase can be separated on to the two kinds: first, the actual literature of all kinds, some quite the quality one: William Shakespeare, Mark Twain, Hemingway, and some modern works of good literature, such as Harry Potter books, and also interesting pieces of literature without much artistic value at all, such as "Twilight"-in a word, books that you would expect from a literature student-that was Alyssa-to read. On the very top of the bookcase, are cookbooks, history books... first two shelves are full of them. That are probably gifts given to her by her family. She rarely reads them, but keeps them due to a courtesy and puts on the top shelves to make them clearly visible in case her family drops by for a visit. However, four of the books fitting into the later category are placed on different shelves, among the books that she, by all accounts, she choose herself, near the bottom, were they aren't that easy to spot, especially when put among the other books. That doesn't make much sense, unless...", he said, bending over and picking out the highest put suspicious book, "she was hiding something in them."

Zoey twitched, feeling even more confused. "Huh.. I'll just wait outside."

Sherlock simply nodded his head, pulling the suspicious books out of the bookcase and putting them down on the writing desk. Zoey glared at him one more time before leaving the apartment, closing the door behind. Sherlock then moved on to inspecting the books closely.

By the condition of the covers and pages, it appears that this books have rarely ever been opened", he whispered to himself. "Except for somewhere in the middle..."

He cracked open all four books at the middle: inside all four books, he found one white, unsealed envelope, same like the ones laying on Alyssa's writing desk. He inspected them and found money inside all the four envelopes: mostly fifty and hundred dollar bills, about two thousand and five hundred dollars in total. Bills weren't anything special, other than the fact that they smelled strongly of lemons.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sudden commotion and voice emerging from the hallway, moving towards his direction.

"I don't know who is that man, but I work as consultant for NYPD for over year and a half now..."

Sherlock's heart skipped the beat at the sound of well familiar voice. He knew what things were at stake, but he also knew knew that he had no way to escape. He was just standing there frozen.

In the next moment, Joan Watson walked in the room. She stopped upon seeing him, and widened her eyes the second afterward... after she recognized him. Despite the disguise, she recognized him. He saw that in her eyes, and now, there was no going back.

"Sherlock...?"

**A/N: I know that it has yet to be explained how Sherlock got back to New York, what is his fake identity... it will be, I promise.**

**Sherlock Holmes was good with disguises, according to original stories... we never got to see that side of him on a show... I am just going** to assume that he's good at that.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**If anyone has predictions about what may happen next, feel free to express your opinion!**

Joan felt her mouth turning dry, her heart thundering against her chest. No. That couldn't be Sherlock. Not all of the sudden, not after all that months, just like that...

But... person in front of her looked like Sherlock, other than different hair and eye color, and the fact that he had no beard, he did, his face looked the same, after two years of living with him, working with him, looking at him, listening to him, she had a gut feeling that the man standing in front of her was Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock swallowed hard as Joan slowly walked closer to him, her eyes still centered on his face. He shivered as she trailed her hand down his right cheek, like she is trying to make sure that he is real.

But soon, feeling of confusion and disbelief were suppressed by feelings of anger and in the next moment, Joan slapped Sherlock over face with such a strength that he had to grab the edge of the writing desk to prevent himself from falling down to his knees. Sherlock groaned, feeling a sharp pain spreading from his face through his entire body. But what hurt more was a look on Joan's face. Sherlock knew that Joan will look exactly that way after he comes back, but he never knew that seeing her in that condition would be that difficult.

Her palm still burning from the contact, Joan said the only thing she could think off at the moment. "How could you?"

The tension was broken, at least for a moment, by the sound of Joan's IPod hands still shaking, she took it out of her pocket and answered the call. "H-Hello?"

"Joan, it's me Marcus." He frowned at how weird Joan sounded. "Are you OK?"

Joan took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. "Yes. What's new?"

"I just wanted to let you know that we found evidence linking that guy, to murder. Dust found on his workplace matches to the dust found on ropes and cloth used to bind and gag the victim, and that same kinds of ropes and cloths were found on his workplace and in his home. Bruise on victim's cheek, the one that you noticed, matches to the tyre iron found in the trunk of his car. He did a pretty good job with cleaning up his car, switchblade and tools, but we found small traces of victim's blood on his switchblade, tyre iron and one of his T-shirts. He decided to remain silent, but based on the evidence we have so far, he will be indicted and hopefully spend the rest of his life in prison."

"OK. I'm glad to hear that. Thanks for the input."

"Are you sure that everything is OK?"

Joan sighed. "Yes, yes I am."

Marcus was still suspicious, but decided to hang up.

"What are you doing here?"

A little calmer, Joan showed her IPod down her pocket and turned back to Sherlock. This time, she asked him a different question. "What are you doing here?"

"I can't reveal any detail. I can only tell you that I am here to investigate Alyssa Smith's murder. They provided me fake ID's, disguises, plane ticket... I arrived here this very morning."

"And Alyssa Smith's murder is probably somehow linked to MI6. Or one of their agents."

"They have nothing to do with her murder."

"And yet they sent you to investigate it."

Sherlock clasped his hands behind his back, looking away. "It is in their best interest that this murder is solved." He turned back to face Joan. "But I want to ask you this: what are you doing here? I heard that you still work as a consultant. But if you worked on the case before why weren't you mentioned in the files?"

Joan looked away too. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

But she decided to be better than him and explain the matter further.

"I was hired to investigate the disappearance of a man named Gary Morgan. He went missing two weeks ago. I searched his apartment and found dollar bills, mostly fifty and one hundred dollar bills, and a red marker, hidden in an air vent. All bills had a little red X sign drawn in the lower right corner. And tracing the serial numbers proved the be a dead end, so I started questioning store owners and clerk working in an area close to Gary's apartment, showing them photographs of the bills. One of them remembered receiving a bill with that sign. But it didn't come from Gary. He said that a girl used it to pay for the groceries, girl that he identified as Alyssa Smith. He also said that he heard that somebody murdered her about a week ago. Apparently a burglary gone wrong. As it turns out, she lived only a mile away from Gary, so I decided to take a look in her apartment before studying the case files."

"I found four envelopes hidden in the books in Alyssa Smith's bookcase. Lemon juice mixed with salt is a great way to get rid off the ink stains on the papers, even the ones used in manifacture of dollar bills, without damaging the paper itself."

Joan glared at him. "I thought that you were not allowed to reveal any details about that case."

"I am merely stating facts. I didn't say anything that may reveal the reason why I was send to investigate the murder or what that particular clue might mean."

"I think that I already know. That's a direct link between between Gary and Alyssa Smith. Meaning that his disappearance and her murder are related."

"Meaning that I will have to investigate both Alyssa's murder and Gary's disappearance in order to find out who killed Alyssa, and you will have to investigate both Gary's disappearance and Alyssa's murder in order to find out what happened to Gary."

"Before I got here, I took my time to study Gary Facebook profile. It hasn't been updated since the day he went missing. But one of the links posted there was a link to an official website of a strip club called "Desire", and several other links posted there are links to forums used for discussions about strip clubs. "Desire" was mentioned in every single one of that forums."

Sherlock frowned. "Alyssa Smith worked in that strip club for the last two years. That sounds like a good place to continue our investigation."

Joan twitched. "Our investigation?There is no "our" investigation. There is only "your" and "mine" investigation."

"I am investigating Alyssa's murder, you are investigating Gary's disappearance. We just established that the two cases are connected. We both have to work on both cases in order to find out... what we need to find out. As long as we are here, we may as well work on a cases-or cases-together."

"You... you are talking like you're been away for five hours, not five months! You left without even discussing it with me, you only left some note, I didn't hear from you in months, as far as I knew you could have been dead, and... now you just say "we may as well work on the cases together. You are not even planning to stay in New York, aren't you?"

Sherlock looked down on the floor, Joan felt herself shivering, he almost looked... ashamed. Even sad. "No", he said. "I am not planning to stay in New York. As the time is going by, I have and lesser are the chances that Gary is alive or chances to find his body and the evidence if he is dead. So I think that the best thing to do right now would be to put personal matters aside and combine our brilliant minds in this complicated and unique investigation."

Joan couldn't believe that she was actually considering that. And seconds later she couldn't believe the words that left her lips.

"OK. I agree."

Sherlock nodded his head. "That strip club, "Desire"... works as a bar during the daytime. So I think that it's the best for us to visit it at... night time."

"Lots of people... easy to blend in..."

"More employees and clients..."

"Go back to motel. I will go back to brownstone. Meet me in front of the club at ten pm."

"OK", Sherlock agreed, nodding his head.

Joan looked him in the eyes. "But don't, even for once, think that I forgive you."

Sherlock just nodded his head.

#

Joan and Sherlock couldn't prevent themselves from blushing once they entered the strip club, smell of sweat and excitement burning through their nostrils, images of seductive dancing searing into their minds.

"So", Sherlock said, breaking an awkward silence, "I am going to talk to the dancers and you... you know..."

"Yes... a counter...", Joan said before they parted. As Joan made his way towards the dancers, Joan walked toward the counter, ready to interrogate two waitresses behind it. Their name tags read "Allison David" and "Shanna Heffernan."

Allison smiled at her politely as soon as she saw her, and so did the other waitress Shanna. They were obviously waiting for her to make an order.

Joan smiled back, then immediately moved to a point. "I'm Joan Watson. I work as a consultant for NYPD. I would like to ask you do you know this man", she said, pulling out Gary's photograph and showing it to them. "Gary Morgan. Was he frequenting this place?"

Allison frowned, inspecting the photograph closely. "Lots of people are frequenting this club... I think that I might have seem him a few times, but I can't tell for sure."

"What about you?", Joan asked, showing the photograph to Shanna.

"I really can't remember seeing him."

"OK...", Joan sighed, putting the photograph away. "How about this?", she asked, pulling out her IPod and showing them the photographs of the bills found in Gary's home. "Does this mean anything to you ?"

"No", Allison said, shooking her head. Shanna simply shook his head.

"Thank you", Joan said before putting her IPod back in her pocket. "What about Alyssa Smith? Did she havd any enemies?"

"No", Shanna said. "That guy, George Truby, was harassing her, but nothing more than that."

"She was a good employee."

Just when she was about to leave, Joan noticed something in "The Lost Idoms" box on the table behind the counter. Something familiar. She pretended to leave and, when the waitresses weren't looking, she put a latex glove over her hand, picked up the idom and stored it in an evidence bag before showing it down the left pocket of her jeans and walking away.

#

Sherlock found it difficult to focus while Emma was dancing seductively in front of him. He took another sip of Cola, trying to stay focused.

"I think that he was there a few times, but I can't be sure", she said, handling a copy of Gary's photograph back to Sherlock. "I'm sorry."

While talking to Emma, Sherlock was also observing other dancers and the clients: he noticed something strange, but wasn't sure what was it.

"And you are sure that she had no enemies?"

"Positive."

She leaned towards him and said, in a husky tone:

"Are you sure that you don't want a lap dance?"

Sherlock forced a smile. "Positive."

#

Less than an hour of investigative work later, Sherlock and Joan met in the very corner of the club, near the exit door.

"None of the people that I spoke to can say for sure was Gary frequenting this strip club or not", Sherlock said. "Neither of them recognizes the bills either. I noticed that some of the clients and dancers acted a bit weird, but I was unable to deduce anything more at that moment. That rarely ever happens."

Joan groaned. "The same with the waitresses and clients that I interrogated. But I found this wrist watch in the box behind the counter, the one containing the lost idoms", she said, taking the evidence bag out of her pocket and showing it to Sherlock. " I remembered seeing Gary wearing that wrist watch on several photographs that I saw in his home. His initials are engraved on it. That is his watch. He was here."

"We have yet to interrogate George Truby, guy who was harassing her, but I have a feeling that the answer lays here."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**My story doesn't follow the cannon strictly. But that is a part of fun, isn't it? I hope that this story will help some _people_ deal with the five months hiatus.**

Joan and Sherlock both sighed as they eventually emerged from the strip club through the front door, smell of sweat, alcohol and cigarette's still attached to their clothing. Their minds were racing, processing information and clues that they obtained there and recently exchanged with each other, trying to make a solution out of them.

"I am going to show the watch to his sister and see if I can give it on forensic analysis", Joan said, straightening her coat. "Maybe that could provide us with the next lead."

"So... you are going back to your hotel room?"

"Yes", Sherlock said, nodding his head.

Joan glared at him."Explain me again: how are you planning to work on this case with me without revealing me any sort of confidential information?"

"I am going to provide you with the facts about the case and things that I deduced, things that may lead us to the killer, but I am going to do my best not to reveal any details regarding the issues od who sent me here, why, why is it in their interest for this murder to be solved, ecetera."

Joan nodded her head. _Typical Sherlock, _she thought_. Even after all these months._

"They gave me a cellphone that I am supposed to use to communicate with them. No matter how long I have worked for them, I still think that it is possible that they are using it to track me down, so I left it in my hotel room and purchuased a disposable cellphone that I am planning too use to contact you from now on. That is why I have to go back to my room now, I am supposed to contact them every two to four hours starting from seven am to twelve pm every day until the further notice. Do you still have the same cellphone number?" Joan gave him a nod. "Good. If you want to contact me, call a motel. I'm booked in Plaza under the name DJ Zachary."

"I am going to study the bills found in Alyssa's apartment closely, I may discover something useful."

"And I am going to interrogate George Truby early the next morning."

After all that was said, what followed was silence. They both stopped talking to each other, but were also unable to bring themselves to walk away either, for some reason. Probably because it was only then that all the emotions and that they experienced earlier that day and while conducting an investigation in that club began to weigh down on them.

Silence was eventually broken by Joan. "So... see you tomorrow", she said, trying to make her tone of voice sound as professional and cold possible.

"Tomorrow", Sherlock repeated, nodding his head.

They stood there in silence for one more moment, like they were having second thoughts about something. Then they both turned around and left without saying a word.

#

The room was big and comfy, with pale white walls and light brown hardwood floor, with the big bed centered on the middle of the room. Sherlock wasn't lying on that bed, he was sitting next to it, texting to-a coded message, so could be sure that it was really from him.

He wrote that he has no new leads so far but is investigating the possibility that George Truby may be involved. He got a response within minutes. His employees seemed to be satisfied, they believed him. At least that was taken care off.

Sherlock groaned as he put the phone back in the drawer and started changing into his pajamas. What a day...

He had to leave. There was no doubt in his mind. He needed a change of space. All those changes... were too much for him. He knew that Joan had a hard time too, but he didn't think that he would be of any help for her at the moment. So he left.

But now, when the things had changed, and Joan doesn't want him back anymore. He can't blame her, but... he always imagined that he would get back to her, sooner or later. That he will, eventually, come to terms with changes in his life and convince Joan to take him back. He knew that it wouldn't be easy, but he didn't expect it to be that difficult.

But maybe it was for the best. Maybe they did drift away, even before he left, but they didn't see that, or didn't want to see that. He felt that he still liked... working with her, no matter how much both of them changed. He missed that all of his time in London. But maybe it really was too late to restore their partnership.

Still, that thought felt like a punch in the gut to him as he laid down on the body, closing his eyes and desperately trying to sleep through the rest of the night.

#

Sherlock knocked on George Truby's front door early the next day, identifying himself as a consultant who works for NYPD, this time using another fake identity provided to him by MI6, different from the one he used while talking to Zoey. He wasn't happy to find him there, but he let him in his house. He was a tall slim young man, still wearing his pajamas, and he appeared oddly grumpy and drained rather than nervous.

"I already told everything to detectives. You should just talk to them."

"Well, it never hurts to have a fresh pair of eyes and minds on the case, don't you think?", Sherlock asked, his hands behind his back. George sighed. "If I understood correctly, you were harassing ms. Smith, did you not?"

George looked down on the floor, his hands pressing against the kitchen table. "My girlfriend recently broke up with me and when Alyssa showed me some affection... I knew that it was her job, but I somehow became fixated on her. It happened a week after the break up, my friend recommended me that club, Desire." He said, sounding almost ashamed. "I got too carried away and did some things that I shouldn't have done. I feel sorry because of that. But I didn't kill her. I am not a violently person. I don't even own a gun."

Sherlock watched how hurt George appeared and how he wasn't trying too hard to prove himself innocent. He was under impression that George wasn't lying.

"Do you have any idea about who might have done it?"

George sighed, then shook her head. "No, I really don't. Everyone seemed to like her. Even I can't believe that anyone would want to kill her."

"Did you notice anything strange or off putting about Alyssa or that place in general?"

George frowned for a second. "No... although it felt weird at first... all the dancers seemed to be much... closer to the customers than in any other strip clubs where I had been, including Alyssa. But maybe they are acting on owner's orders or something."

#

Joan woke up sometime after Sherlock finished his assignment, with a sore feeling in the back of her neck. She groaned, running her hand through her hair. First thing she did was checking her messages. There were one, from Sherlock. Great.

"I talked to George Truby. I don't think that he is the killer. No new leads so far. Call me if you find out something."

After reading the text, Joan had breakfast, brushed her teeth and took a shower, trying not to overthink that whole situation with Sherlock the whole time.

When she finished, it was about nine am. It was then, just after she got dressed in her room, that her IPod, that was laying on the bedside table, started ringing. She picked it up and answered the call.

"Hallo?"

"Joan, it's me", Marcus said from the other end of the line. He was sitting at his desk, going through the files. "I thought that you would want to know this. Forensics analyzed that white substance you said you found in the ice cream box, and the boy itself. That white stuff is heroin. ThQey found a single usable fingerprint on the box. It matches to Gary. Ink used to draw X signs on the bills that you found in an air vent matches to that red marker that you found there. Gary's fingerprints and DNA are on the marker, the bills and the pen that he presumably used to remove the air vent's girder and then screw it back. They also found traces of dust on the bills and the marker, probably from an air vent."

"What about the leaf?"

"It is about two weeks old. A very rade type of tree, at least here. A new, hybrid kind of fig tree. Little to no grow here in New York. According to the records, the only place in New York where that kind of tree grows is a small private park near one of the fishing docks on Hudson river. I sent one of our forensic techs there to inspect the place and he didn't find anything suspicious, but if you want to search it too, suit yourself."

Joan thought about that for a moment before she decided what to do next.

#

Less than an hour later, Joan and Sherlock were standing at the dock, searching for clues, answers, shivering at the possibility of finding a cue piece of evidence there. Working together again after all these months still felt strange to both of them, they weren't even sure did it feel good or bad, but they tried not to think about that and concentrate on solving the case, though Joan found it hard to focus because of Sherlock's effective but ridiculous disguise: big blonde bushy wig, fake blonde moustaches, black sunglasses and a fake scar over his right cheek.

"Well, they were right about the trees", Sherlock said, glaring at the few trees growing near by. "But we can't know for sure is that clue a key to solving Gary's disappearance. There are many ways that leaf could have ended up in his apartment."

"I beg to differ", Joan replied. Sherlock turned his head to look at her, raising an eyebrow. "Forensics estimated that the leaf is about two weeks old, matching to the date of his disappearance."

"Gary is dead, I am sure of that now", she said, somewhat mysteriously, looking down at the water. "Somebody killed him and dumped his body in a river."

"Yes, but two weeks passed since then. The body is probably long gone by now. I doubt that any forensic evidence that killer may had left remained here up until this point. You said that forensic tech who inspected the place found nothing. And if there were any witnessed, they would have come forward by now."

Joan sighed. "Yes..." She looked away, her hands pressing against the fence. Her eyes suddenly lightened up, an idea appearing in her mind. "But if w... I take in account the weather reports for the last two weeks, Gary's height and weight and location where the body was dumped, I can develop a formula and use it to determine where approximately the body is by now. It may take some time, but I am pretty sure that it will prove itself useful."

Sherlock nodded his head as sign of approval. "Good idea." He grinned at her. "How about me helping you with that?"

Joan snickered at him. "How about no. I don't need your help... with that. Don't get too carried away." She finally formed a small smile. "Kudos on the mask though. I barely recognized you when I first saw you there."

Sherlock tried to smile too, but he couldn't, so he simply looked away.

Joan looked down at the river once again and sighed. "I still can't understand how this two cases are connected to one another. I checked all credit cards records, phone call records, e-mails, and I couldn't find any connection between Alyssa and Gary, other than the fact that they lived close to each other and frequented the same grocery store."

"The same with me. The only possible meaningful connection is that Gary very likely frequented the strip club where Alyssa worked. How is that relevant to her murder and his disappearance, is still a mystery to me."

Joan frowned. "Also, he wasn't making much money, but he kept lots of money hidden in an air vent. Like he was saving it for something and didn't want anyone to know that. And nothing in his credit cards records shows that he was in that club, meaning that he was paying for everything in cash. Why would he do that? Drinks there are pretty expensive. If he didn't want anyone to know that he was frequenting a strip club, why did he put those links on his Facebook profile?" She sighed. "This doesn't make any sense. Another weird thing. I also examined bills found in her apartment and envelopes they were in, using a magnifying glass and ninhydrin, having obtained a copy of her fingerprint chart. I only found her fingerprints. Almost like somebody wiped them clean before giving them to her. I also found traces of lemon juice and salt and several cotton fibers. Similar traces were find on her kitchen table during it initial investigation, but it was believed to be a common household waste at the time. It appears that she was cleaning the X signs with cotton ear plugs dipped in lemon juice mixed with salt. She would probably flush sticks down the toilet afterward, which is why ear sticks with traces of lemon juice and salt weren't find in her apartment. But if she was cleaning them so well, why she used one of that marker bills to pay for her groceries?"

Sherlock glared at Joan, his mind also struggling to make sense of all that. "Another important question", he exclaimed. "Why did he have a heroin hidden in an ice cream box in his apartment? Was he a drug dealer, a user or both?"

Joan's mind immediately started going through things that she that she learned and experience while working as a sober companion. "Amount of money hidden would mean that his addiction started escalating. But again, Alyssa had no traces of drugs or alcohol in her system and we didn't find any drugs in her apartment." She groaned. "Anyway, I really need to start working on that formula." She turned towards Sherlock. "You can start checking information about drug related crimes in that area, maybe that will lead us somewhere. I investigated a drug related murder a month ago and kept the copies of those files, just in case."

Sherlock then blurted out something that surprised them both. "Would you like me to join you in your new apartment?"


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

**This chapter is more focused on the case than character's interactions or emotions. Future chapters will make up for it, I promise!**

Sherlock felt... weird, to say at least, upon stepping inside Joan's apartment. It felt very... ordinary. Small apartment, hardwood floor, kitchen with a modern refrigerator and a sink, living room... Kinda like his apartment in London after Mycroft's decorative work.

Mycroft... he could almost feel his blood boiling at the mere thought.

"Nice", he simply commented. Joan lead him to her living room and handled him the files that she kept in one of her drawers.

"Here you go", she said before sitting at her writing desk. Sherlock sighed and got on work.

They were working in silence for hours, only pausing to use the toilet or take a drink of water. When Joan finished, it was close to three pm. "OK, I think that I just completely the formula", she said, removing her glasses. She then turned towards Sherlock, who was still studying one of the files. "Did you find out something interesting?"

Sherlock jumped in place, taken aback by her question. "I did, actually", he said. "Two things. I first did some googling about the club itself. Another stripper, twenty three years old Melissa Gonzales, went missing twenty one months ago after leaving her workplace one day", he said, showing the photograph of young Hispanic woman to Joan. "She also worked at "Desire". No signs of foul play, but again, nobody heard from her since. Her car was find abandoned thirty miles away from her workplace. Then I examined this files. And, according to police records, drug related crimes seemed to increase a lot in the last three years in this very area", he said, pointing to the map. "As you probably noticed, "Desire" is in the very center of it. Local police and even FBI had their doubts about illegal activities going on in that club, but they never find any evidence to support that. "

"So, that club may be used to smuggle drugs."

"I did some research about the owner, Terrence Johnson. He is a rich man who owns several other businesses as well, none of them going even close to being linked with something like that. He has no motive for something like that. I think that person behind that is probably one of the employees or regularly clients, or a group of them."

Joan ran her hands through her hair, her mind struggling to process new information. "OK", she said. "I am going to show the watch to Gary's sister and present my findings to Thomas and Marcus. I think that would be enough to order the search of the bottom of the river."

Sherlock nodded his head. "I am going to stay here, do some more research."

"Your... employers won't get... worried?"

"I made up an excuse to why I won't be able to use my phone as often today. I sensed that we will have lots of work in front of us."

#

Joan sighed and continued pacing around. It had been an hour since scuba divers started searching the bottom of the river. She knew that searched like that can take hours or even days, but she couldn't help but feel impatient.

Finally, she saw Thomas and Marcus walking over to her. They both looked serious.

"Searching crew found the human body", captain Gregson explained as he approached her. "Somewhere around the location to which you lead us. So far we only know that victim is Caucasian man, about 5'9 tall. The body is in bad state of decomposition, it appears that it had been in the river for weeks. They contacted the missing person's unit minutes ago."

Joan felt herself shivering. Gary was almost certainly dead. She felt like it was just a matter of time before she and Sherlock would crack the case. "Body is probably Gary's", she said.

"Yes", Marcus agreed. "But they also found another body, about twenty miles away from the place they found the first one. This body was put in a trash bag and weighed down with rocks. That is why the river didn't carry it away very far. They think that body may be there much longer than the first one. Close to two years, judging by the initial examination."

"It also means that the killer probably dumped this body from the same location where he or she dumped Gary's. Meaning that the same person killed both Gary and the second victim. He didn't weigh his body, he was probably in a hurry. Murder was probably unplanned."

"Medical examiner can't tell much by now, by judging by the skeleton, that victim is a woman in mid twenties, probably Hispanic", Gregson explained.

Joan's eyes widened. "Twenty one months ago, a Hispanic woman named Melissa Morales went missing. Nobody heard from her since. She worked as a stripper in strip club called "Desire." Her car was find abandoned thirty miles away from her workplace. That's the same club where Alyssa Smith worked. You know, the woman who had been murdered over a week ago?"

"Yes, you mentioned something about Gary's disappearance being linked to Alyssa Smith's murder somehow", Thomas recalled. "A stripper who worked in that same strip club."

"Yes, they lived close to each other and there are some evidence that suggest that Gary frequented that strip club."

"Anyway, there are no visible sign of violence on the first body so far, but we will know more after the autopsy. But the woman was definitely murdered. It looks like she had been shot in the stomach and head. Probably with a small caliber weapon."

"Same like Alyssa. Though she was shot with .45 caliber gun."

Thomas's cellphone rang. He pulled it out his pocket and answered. "Hallo?" He frowned." I see. OK, we're on our way."

He put the phone back in his pocket and then raised his head to face Joan. "Somebody just found found Gary's vehicle. Forty miles away from his place. Licence plates match."

#

After little over an hour, Joan and Marcus already on a parking lot where the car was left. One of local detectives was in tow with them. Joan's eyes flew over the car parked there, her mind deducing and tying little details into a bigger picture. Thomas headed back to the station, deciding to take one more look into Alyssa Smith's murder.

"Lots of dust...", she noted. "No fresh tyre tracks... it has obviously been parked here for quite a while, probably since the very day Gary was murdered."

"They ran the licence plates. This is Gary's car. Killer left it here, with all four door unlocked and keys in the ignition, hoping that somebody would steal it", Marcus exclaimed.

"This is a pretty bad neighborhood, lots of thefts going on and also some minor drug use", the detective explained. "However, the killer didn't know that we set up a ration the day after Gary's death. Most of the criminals active in that area were arrested soon or tried to stay away from trouble, knowing that something is up, so nobody stole it. Police didn't notice it on first because they concentrated on places where they could catch criminals in the act: stores, parks... The ration ended just a day ago. Forensic techs were searching for evidence that one of the suspects might have dropped while running away from the police. They notice the car and realized that it had probably been parked there for days or weeks. They informed us, we ran the licence plates and found out that car is registered to a missing person, Gary Morgan. That's when we contacted the missing persons unit, and they contacted you."

Joan nodded her head. "Makes sense. Car in the river is much more noticeable than the dead body."

"Forensics found two suitcases in the trunk. Filled with Gary's clothes and documents. We found some money too. They also found a leaf on the gas break, similar to the one that you found in Gary's apartment. They are searching the car for fingerprints and trace. They are going to tow it in the laboratory and conduct more detail examination there too."

Joan bend over and examined the car's interior. "GPS is ripped off the car glass and smashed, then left laying on the floor. That is why there was no signal. Driver's seat and rear mirrors are positioned for a person between 5'8 and 5'10 tall. That's Gary's height. Either the killer coincidentally happened to be the same or approximately the same height as Gary or he or she was smart enough to set driver's seat and rear mirrors back in original position before leaving." She groaned. "All other car seats are covered with blue covers, except for the driver's one. I can still see remains of blue fibers on the seat. And the seat belt is cut, by the look of the cutting edge, probably with a switchblade. Killer removed that articles after ditching the car here, left with them and presumably disposed of them later in order to remove any possible forensic evidences such as fibers or hairs."

She started inspecting the back of Gary's car. "There are some cuts on the trailer hitch. Older ones, judging by the rust and dust, but there aren't many of them. Meaning that it has rarely been used. Maybe only once. Probably by a killer, who used it to tow his car here and then drove away in it after ditching Gary's vehicle. But there are no usable tyre tracks here, by now. Traces of mud and leaves mean that he or she was probably driving through... not very traffic areas in order to avoid being spotted by other drivers or caught on traffic camera. That is why he or she was driving his car first rather than just using his or hers own car to tow it, to make his or hers car less noticeable."

Marcus smiled. "Or the killer just happened to be low on fuel."

Joan formed a small smile. "Perhaps." She turned serious the very next moment. "But unless the killer left some sort of forensic evidence inside the car, I can't see how the discovery of Gary's vehicle would help us find him or her."

Marcus sighed, thinking the same thing.

#

It was eight pm when Joan finally finished telling Sherlock about her findings. He was just listening to her in silence. He didn't say a word.

"And that's everything that we know so far", she finished. "Judith couldn't identify the body, but dental record matches; we have yet to wait for an autopsy."

Sherlock was quietly listening to her the whole time, sitting in the floor in front of her, surrounded by the pile of papers and photographs. Even after she finished, he remained silent, like he was considering something. That surprised Joan.

"You have been really quiet today", she pointed. What's wrong?"

Sherlock forced a smile. "I just wanted to see does what you found it fit in the theory that I developed while you were away. And it does."

Joan frowned. "What theory?"

Sherlock remained calm. "The one that explains everything. I think I know what happened to Melissa, Gary and Alyssa. And who killed them and why", he said, sounding almost disappointed.

**A/N: If you have any predictions or ideas as to who the killer may be, please let me know! I would like to know your opinion!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

"It didn't take long because there wasn't much to investigate anyway", Sherlock explained. "Despite my limited resources, I managed to run detail background check on all of the employees listed on the club's website. Some dancers have criminal records, mostly for traffic offences. One of the cocktail waitresses, Sheila Heffernan, was charged with possession of narcotics in 2007. But the one that really caught my attention is the second cocktail waitress, Allison David."

He handled Joan the file, basically a summary of Allison's background. "She was born on October 25th, 1985 in New York, Brooklyn. Her mother died when she was five years old and her father was, reportedly, alcoholic. There were numerous aligations of an abuse, but no conclusive evidence. She was a great student all the way through elementary school, middle school and High school and moved away almost immediately after graduating. She started attending college, using her scholarship money to finance her education. She was studying economy. During her second year on college, she filed a sexual harassment suit against one of the professor's. Charges were dropped and she was, soon, expelled. She burned the professor's car and was sentenced to one year in prison. After her release, she went through numerous low paying jobs."

Sherlock nodded his head before continuing. "Apparently, at the age of twenty three, she started dating a man named Joe Koller, ten years older than her, who originally worked as a bouncer in the night club "Elaine" on Manhattan. She was arrested in 2008 together with her boyfriend after they attempted to sell heroin to a man in another bar. He turned out to be an undercover cop. They were both convicted to four years in prison and released after serving two years on the grounds of good behaviour. Joe soon found a job as a bouncer in strip club called "Moonlight", in Brooklyn."

Joan frowned upon reading one of the files. "Drug related crimes and drug use were already common in that area, due to a notorious drug dealer who operated there for years, Carl Jerau", she read. "Soon after Joe started working there, it increased, especially in close proximity to the club."

"Within six months, Joe was dead. Somebody broke in his apartment and shot him execution style in the back of the head with a .45 caliber gun. Police suspected that Carl was the killer, but they couldn't prove anything. There was no foreign fingerprints found in the apartment, no usable shoe prints, no DNA or fibers, no witnesses, no phone call records or e-mails that would point to a killer, even shell casings were gone. A very well done job, I have to admit. "

Joan shifted in her seat as she continued studying the files. "But one interesting thing: while he, by all accounts, already was a drug dealer, in 2005, Carlton married a woman named Wendy. She later took his last name. They had a son together, born in 2007. She rarely ever worked after marrying to him. This is one of the advantages of marrying a drug kingpin, I suppose. But she applied for a cocktail waitressing job in the night club called "Moonlight". She got the job and worked there for a month, she quit two days before Joe was murdered."

"A week after Joe was murdered, somebody murdered Carlton, Wendy and their son while they were leaving the Italian restaurant stationated near their home at about nine pm. In a drive by shooting, with MI5 semi-authomatic rifle, that is, as we established once before, a perfect choice for a good old fashioned drive by. Car used in a shooting was find ditched and set on fire on the parking lot two miles away. No forensic evidence survived and there was no witnesses. Killer apparently picked up shell casings too. Forensics managed to recover the licence plates and trace the car back to a young man named John Green. He claimed that his car was stolen the day before. Police report confirmed that. He had no criminal record and had an alibi for the time of the murder, he was at work. But one interesting thing: Allison was unemployed at the time, but she would often eat at the restaurant where hr worked. After police asked him about Allison, having known that Carl was a suspect in Joe's murder and that she was her girlfriend, he confirmed that she was frequenting a restaurant he had been working in. They interrogated her, she denied any involvement, they couldn't prove anything and that case, too, soon turned cold. A month later, a cop who arrested Allison and Joe in 2008 was shot to death in a forest near his home. The killer was never find. A presumed hunting accident."

Joan continued reading, her mind slowly connecting pieces of the puzzle into a bigger picture. "Two months after the murder, Allison found a job. She started working as a cocktail waitress in a strip club called "Desire" and she has been working there ever since." She raised her head to glare at Sherlock. "They hired her despite her criminal record?"

"Apparently, strip club owners neglect to ran a background check when young, attractive and generally unassuming woman wants to work as a low pair cocktail waitress for them. I doubt that they would fire her if they found would find out anyway."

Joan's eyes widened at the sudden realization. "Men who frequent the club and hang around with strippers, watch them dance, often put bills in their tang and panties as a sign of their gratitude or in a desperate attempt to become closer to them. Joe saw that as an opportunity to sell drugs and remain undetected!"

Sherlock nodded his head in approval. "Dancers would hide small packages filled with heroin inside there bras, panties, jewelry... customers would handle them the money or put it in their panties or bras, while they were dancing in front of them and dancers would quickly count the money and then slip the clients a right amount of drugs. According to the club's policy, all dancers need to keep bras and panties on and are allowed to wear jewelry-including their own jewelry-during the performances."

"They had to know which one of the clients would give them money in exchange for drugs and they had to have a way to distinguish their tip money from the money given to them in an exchange for drugs. That is why customers who wanted to buy drugs would, by Joe's instructions, marks the bills they would use. With a red X sign drawn in the lower right corner." She bit her lower lip, thinking back to certain events. "Alyssa probably used the money to pay for her college education and books, but would sometimes use it to pay for groceries too. She probably forgot to remove the X sign from one of the bills and used it to pay for food. Gary probably lost his watch before leaving the club that night, and somebody picked it up and stored in in "Lost Idoms" box. Nobody remembered to it link to Gary, not even Allison or Sheila. Allison kept an eye on the clients, but, apparently, didn't have a good eye for details."

Sherlock jumped in place, his mind still racing. "Excellent observation, Watson!", he proudly exclaimed. "In fact, the website states that lost idoms will be kept on display in a box behind the counter for a month before being taken to the storage unit downstairs."

"Anyway, at the end of each night, dancers would give all the money to Joe, he would count it and give a small amount to them, and keep the bigger amount for himself and Allison", Joan deduced, still going through the files.

"As a part of the deal, his clients were supposed to text him and say what amount of drug they brought after they do, and probably send another text few minutes after getting high, while they were still reasonable, so he would make sure that they didn't ODe in the close proximity to the club, knowing that would attract even more police attention. To make absolutely sure that he wouldn't get caught, he would remove the ink stains from the bills with the mixture of lemon juice and salt and advised the dancers to do the same. That way he would never actually get in contact with the drug that he was selling and he was clean. Police would have learned of that by checking his phone records, but his cellphone got smashed, since it was in his pocket once his body hit the floor. Carl eventually started suspecting that Joe was selling drugs in his territory. His wife found a job in that club. Despite Joe's prococions, Wendy managed to find out what Joe was doing. She quit her job and informed her husband, who murdered and robbed Joe. Allison later murdered Carl and his family as a retribution and took over her lover's business. She found a job in another club in close proximity to that bar and made friends with other employees, including the dancers. It probably took her months. She manipulated with them into engaging in the drug smuggling business and used the exact same tactic as the one Joe did up until he was murdered. It makes sense, most of them are young girls, the job isn't very well paid, at least not in that particular club, despite the tips, and lots of them still attend college. As his mistress and an accomplice, Allison probably learned a lot about his tactics before his death. Melissa was probably stealing from her, and she killed her in order to set an example for the others. "

Like on some unspoken agreement, Joan continued the summation. "Gary went to the club that night, purchased heroin, went outside, took it, ODed, probably in his car, and died. When he didn't text her, Allison grew concerned. She asked Sheila to take over her shift while she sneaks outside to check things out. Sheila was probably her accomplice, the same way Allison was to Joe. Sheila agreed and Allison sneaked outside and started searching for Gary. She probably took a pair of rubber gloves with her, just in case. Upon finding Gary dead, she realized that she had to cover it up. After calling Sheila and asking her to take over her shift for a day or too, she put the gloves on and got on business." Joan stopped for a moment to make sure that everything makes sense, mental images still flashing in front of her eyes. "The car door were probably unlocked. She first searched his pockets, found his wallet, car key and an apartment key, turned off his phone, ripped the GPS out and smashed it, dragged his body in the trunk of his own car, drove her car there, tied it to a trailor hitch on his car, and drove to one of the finishing docks on Hudson river, where she dumped his body, in the water. After driving to his apartment building, having read his address on his driving licence, she went into his apartment and took all of his clothes, documents and money that she found, storing them in two suitcases. She, however, didn't remember to look into an air vent, where he kept money put aside for drug purchuases, already marked, and a marker used to mark the bills. After sneaking in through the back door, Allison put the suitcases in the trunk of Gary's caf and drove away. She drove his car to that abandoned parking lot forty miles away, intentionally driving through low-traffic roads, took off a seat cover, cut the seat belt with the switchblade that she carried with her, and drove away in her own car, back to her workplace, disposing off the seat cover, gloves and seat belt on her way. That explains how the leaves got in the car and in the apartment. She finished her shift and then went home as if nothing had happened." She stopped and went to take a glass of water. Sherlock continued.

"Gary's disappearance didn't attract any media attention, but Alyssa probably grew concerned after he didn't show up in a club for days. She might have noticed Allison sneaking out that night and returning an hour or two later, or/and seen the "Missing person" fliers that his sister put all over the city. She was still young and unexperienced in that kind of business, she probably grew very concerned and shared her suspicious with Allison. Allison eventually decided that Alyssa is too much of a treat, she decided that the best thing to do is... well, to eliminate her. Rather than making her mysteriously disappear like Melissa and risk the police linking the cases, she went to Alyssa's apartment a week later, early in the morning, probably under the pretense that they have to talk about Gary. Alyssa let her inside, and Allison murdered her and made it look like the botched robbery. As a part of the plan, she took some valuables from Alyssa's apartment, including her laptop and a wrist watch. For that same purpose, and also to make sure that nobody will link Alyssa's murder to her or the drug smuggling, she took all of Alyssa's money too. She didn't find the one hidden in the books though. Allison knew that Alyssa used her necklace and bras and panties to hide packages filled with drugs while dancing, so she took that idoms too. Another possible reason as to why she took Alyssa's laptop was that she thought that Alyssa may did some online research about Gary's disappearance. That is why she made her way toward the bedroom first." "And, according to Allison's address and Facebook profile, she actually lives in an up scale neighborhood in Manhattan, two store house fifty miles away from her workplace. And drives a BMW, the latest model. And we are supposed to believe that she works as a cocktail waitress? By all accounts, in five to ten years, she will probably have enough money to move to Europe, which is when she will quit her job-both the real one and ilegall one-and pass the later one to someone else. Probably Sheila."

Joan finished studying the files and put them back in the file. "I wonder how did she-and before her, Joe-managed to explain that to IRS", she commented.

Sherlock glared at her. "You can easily recover those files, via your police connections, especially if you need them for purposes of an active murder investigation and carry out our theory to Gregson. I am sure that those records will confirm my doubts, and may even provide us with the evidence that we need to convict her."

"I am not going to deny that: I am still mad at you. But, thank you, for helping me with this case."

"Thank you, even more, for allowing me to work with you again." He stopped, suddenly finding it hard to look her in the eyes. "And for not forgiving me, what I did. I would actually be disappointed at you, if you did."

Joan remained calm, feeling some warmth suddenly seeping up her chest. Although she was still mad at Sherlock, she was glad to hear that he still had some decency left and that he admitted that what he did was at least in some ways wrong. "I am glad to hear that", she said.

Sherlock just nodded his head, his cheeks feeling flushed. "Me too", he said in a whisper before sitting down, closing his eyes and sighing at the feeling of his mind and muscles starting to relax.

Joan watched him longingly. Working together with him, despite now being disrupted with anger and hurt, kept filling her with some sort of a feeling that she had been missing for five long months. But within seconds she realized that they will soon fall apart again, and she quickly looked away, feeling her lower lip trembling for a moment. "Anyway, I am going to share our theory with captain Gregson", she said, doing her best to sound calm, her mind quickly putting personal matters aside and trying hard to focus on the case, something that she learned how to do and did quite often in the last few months. "I won't be mentioning you, of course. I doubt that a mere theory would be enough for arrest or a search warrant, unless the forensics find something, but it may be enough to give us an access to her and Joe's IRS records."

Sherlock just nodded his head, his eyes still closed. He did register some sort of negative emotion in her voice, but decided not to think about that and let her do her job.

#

After an hour and a half, up until nine pm, Joan and Thomas were still going through the IRS records and some other financial records regarding Allison and Joe in his office.

"OK", Joan read, "after Joe's death, Allison inherited following things: all the money from his bank accounts-forty thousand dollars..."

"his car, 2000 Ford, and Joe's summer house, that he inherited at the age of 25 from his parents. It is located near the Central Park, about twenty miles away from Allison's apartment."

"That might be the place where she build her drug lab. And where she keeps her collection of untraceable fire arms."

Thomas sighed. "That is a good theory, and so is the one that you presented to me an hour and a half ago, but not enough for a warrant." He went through the last few documents before finishing."I finished. Did you?"

"Yes."

After plastering all the documents on the plastic board in Thomas's officer., they stepped aside and looked at the mental map that they created.

"OK...", Joan exclaimed after a minute or two. "Allison attributed all of her suspiciously high incomes as the loans given to her by "The Washers", the car cleaning company. The same thing Joe was doing in the last six months prior to his death."

He sat at his desk and quickly did some research on his computer before coming up with the results. "That is a small private company, established in 2000. They would hardly be able to provide her with such high amounts of money."

Joan looked at the board again."But the owner, fifty years old William Zachary, confirmed her story every time", she noted before turning back to Thomas. "Does ha have a criminal record?"

After some typing, Thomas exclaimed: "Yes. He had been arrested five times since the age of twenty for possession of a controlled substance and theft. His last arrest and conviction dates back to 1995."

"He may be the third link in a chain. The one who is making the drug that they sell. She did some googling about him on her IPod. "According to his social network status, he is currently on a business related trip in San Francisco and will be returning tomorrow."

Thomas sighed. "We need to talk to him. Unless the forensics find something, he is our only hope."


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I don't own any of the Elementary characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

**Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

Sherlock Holmes woke up the next morning, in his hotel room, to the sound of his cellphone ringing. Seeing that it is Joan calling, he answered almost immediately.

"Good morning", Joan sighed, finishing her first morning coffee. "Good morning to you too", he said, almost sarcastically.

"I just wanted you to know M.E. rushed with the autopsy. Gary did die of heroin overdose. And Melissa was shot once in the head and once in the stomach, like Alyssa. With .22 caliber revolver."

"What about the car?"

"All usable fingerprints found inside it and in it match to Gary. They recovered one foreign latent shoe print though. Nike sneaker, size 8. Gary was size 12. And IRS records confirmed our suspicions."

"Yes, you e-mailed me the last night. Loans..."

"Yes. Same with William's incomes. Suspiciously high, listed as incomes, from Allison. We managed to access their bank records too, but no news there other than what we already found out. Although Allison would withdraw five hundred dollars from her account every month. We don't know why. Did you find anything interesting?"

"Yes", Sherlock remembered, crawling out of bed, "twenty two months ago, forty years old Emily Eggers was murdered in her home. She was tied to a chair with some towels, according to the bruises for quite some time, beaten with the tyre iron left on the scene, and strangled to death with the towel. No traces of forced entery, but some valuables were missing. Suspected burglary with tragic outcome. She get out of prison a year before. She was convicted off robbing the armed truck filled with weapons, that were never find. For the last ten months of her second prison sentence, Allison was her cellmate."

"So, Emily got out, planned to lay low for a year or two and then sell her collection. She probably informed Allison about her plan, although she probably didn't inform her as to where she hid it. When her criminal empire started expanding, she tricked Emily down, convinced her to let her inside her home, knocked her unconsciousness, tied her up and beat her until she told her where she hid it. She drove there, saw that it was true, moved the weapons to her summer house, drove back, murdered Emily and then made it look like burglary gone wrong."

"Probably."

"OK. I and captain Gregson are going to talk to William Zachary. I am going to let you know if we find out anything new."

#

William let Thomas and Joan in his car wash company, but still sounded suspicious.

"So, what is this about?", he asked. "We want to ask you some questions about a woman named Allison David."

William frowned a little, but remained calm. "What about her what?"

"We suspect that she may be involved in some... ilegall activities", Thomas said carefully.

William didn't even blink. "If she is, I know nothing about that."

"We managed to access your IRS records", Joan exclaimed. William

stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening. Thomas smirked. They both felt that they were on to something."And bank records. You give each other lots of loans."

But that was as far as it went. "I would like you to leave now", William said. "Unless you have a warrant, don't come back. I'm a busy man."

And that was about everything they found out from him.

#

It was close to nine pm when Sherlock and Joan met in her apartment again. Joan quickly revealed details of her conversation with William.

"So, it looks like our investigation reached a dead end."

"Possibly", Sherlock agreed. " But I think that there is a way we can... expand our views, so to speak."

Joan glared at him, intrigued.

"I managed to find out Allison's cellphone number. Since you seemed to have become even more familiar with my methods over the last five months, is it safe to assume that you have your collection of burners somewhere?"

Joan took one out of her living room drawer and handled it to Sherlock. He took it, sat on the couch and started typing a message to Allison, Joan's eyes fixated on the screen as he did.

"I KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO GARY AND ALLISON. I KNOW ABOUT THE DRUGS. I HAVE PHOTOGRAPHS THAT CAN PROVE THAT. I WANT MONEY IN EXCHANGE FOR SILENCE, TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS. MEET ME IN TODAY AT 1 PM IN MC LAREN'S NEAR THE CLUB WHERE YOU WORK."

Sherlock pressed the "send" button and turned towards Joan. "And now we just have to go there and wait for her", he exclaimed.

#

Joan was sitting at the table in the restaurant, opposite to Sherlock. She bit her lower lip before checking her watch, growing impatient.

"Is it time?"

Sherlock sighed. "It is." He took a sip of water as his eyes flew over the restaurant, stopping on the front door. "There she is, coming inside in this very moment."

Joan glared briefly at the front door before moving her head back to face Sherlock. "And now we watch."

Allison slowly walked over to the table and sat at it, opposite to Sherlock and Joan, shooking her head in disbelief. "Well, well... to think that you two... police consultants." She barely withhold laughter.. "Twenty thousand dollars..."

"That is the least you can do, after everything you had done", Sherlock put it bluntly. "You managed to surprise me. Congratulations."

"You mean, killing Allison and Melissa and spelling Gary drugs and all?" Both Sherlock and Joan were taken aback by her blutness. "I can see why you would think that."

"Why did you did that?", Joan asked.

Allison thought for a while before answering. "Ever since I was a child, I woulf find myself being regularly shocked and frightened by the constant proofs of how corrupt and evil the world I happened to be born in is. Until I learned how to turn that in my advantage."

"By becoming evil yourself?", Sherlock exclaimed, more stating the obvious than asking.

"Good people don't do well here."

"You mean, in this country?", Joan asked, actually feeling herself getting intrigued.

"Here", Allison firmly stated.

"People always make that sort of mistake. Thinking that being mostly selfless and not hurting others is the right way to live. But the truth is, we do hurt each other every day. Animals hurt each other every day. The whole nature, the very core of this universe relies on that."

"Too bad", Allison smirked, "your friend seemed to enjoy our little discussion." Joan took a sip of coffee, suddenly feeling herself blush. She hated that feeling.

"Also, you are hardly more moralistic than me. Two police consultants letting a drug kingpin and a serial killer go in an exchange for... money..." She eyed Sherlock suspiciously, then Joan, then Sherlock again. "If that is the real reason why you are here."

Joan tried to stay calm, but shivered. Sherlock kept an eye contact with Allison. She smirked. "I should have known. Give me the tape recorder."

"What tape recorder?"

"The one that you hid in your pocket. Give it."

Joan heard a clicking sound and felt her blood running cold. She slowly looked down, under the table. Allison was holding a gun, pointed at the lower part of Joan's stomach.

"Don't do anything stupid...", Sherlock started.

"Shut up."

Joan slowly slipped the tape recorder out of her pocket and handled it to Allison. She grabbed it with the force that almost made Joan jump in her seat, showed it down her pocket, hid the gun under her T-shirt and quickly emerged outside through the back door. Almost immediately after she left, Sherlock turned toward Joan, seeming genuinelly concerned. "Are you OK?", he asked, warmth and softness of his voice surprising Joan, but also making her feel a bit calmer. "Yes, yes I am", she said, nodding her head, even though she herself found it hard to believe her own words. "Luckily, I was one step ahead." She pulled out another, much smaller tape recorder from the magazine on the table, and showed it to Sherlock before turning it off. "We got her", she said, grinning. "You go back to my apartment", she said, handling Sherlock an extra key. "I am going to call Thomas and Marcus. With little luck, they will arrest her here."

#

Joan arrived at the police station as soon as she got the news that Allison was arrested near the scene. She saw Gregson walking towards her. "Did you interrogate her?"

Thomas sighed before answering. "Yes. We found her near the restaurant. She denies everything. She says that you and some other guys contacted her to ask her some questions about Alyssa's murder. You accussed her of having something to do with that, she get angry, you got engaged in a brief confrontation and then she left."

Joan's eyes widened. "And you believe her? She threatened me with the gun!"

"We didn't find a gun in her possession. Or the phone. Or the money."

"She disposed of them! You only arrived half an hour later!"

"Why would she dispose of the gun and the phone and then returned to the scene?"

"What about the tape recorder? The tape? She confessed!"

"We examined it. Nothing."

Joan couldn't believe her ears. "How do you mean nothing? It was turned on! I am sure!"

"I don't know what to tell you, Joan. Our best voice analysits were examining for hours. They found nothing. We had to let you go."

Joan felt the back of her head turn numb, cold sweat running down her back. She ran her hand through her hair absentmindedly.

"I'm sorry, Joan. We had to let her go. We will be lucky if she doesn't sue us. And you and your... friend, whoever he was. If you want protection, we can send..."

Joan shook her head. "No, it is OK."

Thomas frowned at her and then walked away, shaking his head.

As soon as he was gone, Joan pulled out her phone and called Sherlock.

"Stay in my apartment, I am coming there. Now! You will not believe what happened."

#

The whole minute after hearing the story, Sherlock remained silent, frowning and looking blankly at Joan.

"You are not going to say anything?", she asked.

"That rarely ever happens to me, but I am... shocked."

Joan sighed and sat down on the chair. "I was too. But I did some research before I got there and as it turns out, it was fairly easy for her to do that."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her, looking intrigued. Joan continued. "There are some, though illegal, wireless devices that can be used to block the tape recorders and listening devices. Allison probably used it while talking to us, knowing that the whole thing may be a set up. They can work in a vide radius, which explains why nothing was taped even after she left."

"Only when she was arrested, Allison didn't have that device, gun, tape recorder, money, or her phone in her possession", Sherlock reminded Joan.

"Because she ordered Sheila to wait for her in close proximity to the restaurant. She managed to run away but knew that if she would continue running away, she would only appear more of a suspect. Instead she decided to stay there and tell the police her version of the story. She gave the device, money, gun and her phone, that she turned on, to Sheila, who then, by Allison's orders, got in her own car and drove away. She probably stored the device, money and the phone somewhere safe and disposed of the gun, by Allison's instructions. Sheila was her fail safe, her last mean of escape from justice in a risky situation." Joan sighed. "She confessed right away, she forced me at gunpoint to give the tape recorder... but she knew that I was wearing another one. The one she blocked with her device. She was just playing with us. Gave us the false hope, made us think that we are one step ahead and then..."

Sherlock give it a thought before agreeing. "It makes sense. Sheila could have easily parked her car behind that paint factory about one hundred feet away from the restaurant. A relatively quiet location. We caught Allison near by. And she obviously does enjoy a power tip."

Joan groaned. "We were in a quiet part of the restaurant, near the back door, far away from most of the customers, made sure that we will see her driving there in her own car... clever. Now she does not only appear less of a suspect, but she can easily file a police harassment suit if we do something that she doesn't like. Anyway, since I am working with you, I declined police protection. I don't think she would be stupid enough to try to do something to me. And my self defense skills have improved a lot", she said, almost forming a smile as she did.

Sherlock's eyes suddenly widened as the idea popped up in his head. He turned facing Joan, small grin on his face. "But if somebody would... theoretically... call 911, claiming that there is a bomb placed in that summer house... ready to Go off at any moment... they would have to break inside and search it. And even if they don't find the bomb, if they spot something suspicious... they should inform the detectives. Who would then be able to obtain a search warrant."

Joan's lips formed a smile, a rush of excitement going through her body. "Good idea", she admitted, then frowned. "But after today's conversation with us and the police interrogation, Allison is probably already working on moving her drug lab and weapon somewhere else."

Sherlock shrugged. "We will just have to try to beat her to it."

#

Their plan did work. Within hours after the finding, Allison David was sitting at the table in an interrogation room, her lawyer sitting right next to her, Thomas and Marcus standing opposite to them, Joan standing by the side. Sherlock remained in wait in his hotel room.

"You were very careful, I have to admit", Thomas said, cracking open the file laying on the table. "But not careful enough. You washed your clothes in bleach, but forgot the clean your jewelry. We found traces of gunshot residue on your wrist watch, and small splatters of blood, consistent with Alyssa's injuries. Two weeks passed, but some of it still remained on it. It was very dark colored, probably why you didn't notice. That blood is being tested for DNA as we speak."

"Shoes found in your house match to latent shoe print found in Gary Morgan's car", Marcus informed her. "In your house, also found several trash bags, that you seem to use quite regularly: they match to the bag used to dispose of Melissa Morales's body. Rocks used to weigh her down match to those from an abandoned construction sight near your house", he finished. Next, it was Joan's turn.

"You already know that we found a drug laboratory and a collection of untraceable fire arms in your summer house. And devices used to block tape records and listening devices. We found your fingerprints inside. All over it. But also William Zachary's fingerprints. Your computer records show that you were looking for the new summer house. FBI is talking to him as we speak. Do you really think that he wouldn't rat you out?"

Allison exchanged a few whispers with his lawyer before turning to Thomas, Marcus and Joan and calmly exclaiming: "I want to make a deal."

Joan couldn't help but to reply on that. "You murdered two people. Two that we can prove of. You owned an arsenal of illegal firearms and kept a drug lab in your summer house! What kind of a deal can you possibly get?"

Allison remained calm. She almost appeared smug. "Pretty good one, I suppose, if I can help you with four unsolved murder cases."

Everyone remained silent. Allison continued. "Here are my terms: you won't charge me with murdering Melissa's. You will only charge me for minor drug offences and one count of ilegall possession of fire arms. And you will rule Alyssa's murder as a 2nd degree murder. And you will leave Sheila alone. You don't have any evidence against her anyway."

"Long story short, twenty seven years", her lawyer explained.

Thomas glared at them suspiciously. "This better be good. What do you have to offer?"

Allison smirked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Did you ever heard of a Bingham case?"

Thomas frowned. "Triple murder in Brooklyn. Father, Walter, mother, Stephanie, and daughter, Amy Bingham. They were all shot to death in their home with a shotgun. House was burglarized. Police suspected the neighbor, but they couldn't prove anything."

"William killed them. All of them. And stole their money. I didn't have anything to do with that I know because he confessed to me asked me to help him get rid of the evidence day after the murder. I did, because I needed him. I disposed of the murder weapon, helped him clean up his truck and burned his blood stained clothing in fire pit behind Joe's summer house before throwing the ashes in the lake near by. But I kept a pair of gloves that he was wearing while commiting the murder as my fail safe. And I am the one who disposed of the shotgun and amunition." She took a sip of water before continuing. "He also killed Danielle Gray."

Joan's eyes widened. "I read about that", she exclaimed. "Twenty five year old girl, murdered two months ago in front of the night club. Her throat was slit. The killer was never caught."

"He saw her walking down the street, alone, drunk. He started hitting on her, she blew him off and he snapped. Once again, William came running to me for help. I helped him, burned his clothing and disposed of the murder weapon, but that time I also kept something. His bloodstained shirt."

"How can we know that you are telling the truth?", Marcus asked.

Allison pouted. "First, I am going to tell you where the shotgun and amunition is", she said. "And where I burried the knife. Then we will make a deal, and then I am going to reveal where the gloves are. And then I am going to confess to everything and reveal a code. But you will have to promise that my... clients and employees will receive little to no prison time."

Thomas, Marcus and Joan exchanged looks. Allison smirked. "So, what do you think?"

#

"Come inside", Joan told Sherlock, sounding tired somehow, maybe even drained. Sherlock made her way inside her apartment and sat on the couch in Joan's living room. She closed and locked the door behind and sat on an armchair opposite to it.

"You already informed me about all the main aspects of the case", Sherlock exclaimed. "I sense that now you invited me here to explain me the conclusion. After all, the whole day passed since Allison got arrested."

Joan nodded her head and took a deep breath before answering. "They found the gloves, and the shirt. Stored in the safe deposit box, in the bank. Allison purchased it while wearing a wig and using one of her fake ID's. She was paying for it in cash every month, hence the withdrawals from her account. The key, fake ID and the wig were hidden in an arm rest in her car."

"Since you were gone for a whole day", Sherlock exclaimed, "I think that it is safe to assume that forensic testings had been done."

"Several forensic techs were analysing that idoms the whole day, the fastest they could."

Sherlock frowned. "And?"

Joan sighed. "Gloves that Allison provided us with match to William's glove size and to the glove print found on the scene. Forensics found traces of gunshot residue on the gloves, and also traces of blood. Blood splatters are consistent with the wounds that victim's sustained. DNA analysis confirmed that the blood is the mixture of three genetically similar DNA profiles. They also found traces of sweat and skin cells on and inside the gloves. They managed to extracted a DNA profile. William's DNA profile. Only his. Traces of human blood were find on the shirt. It was smeared, probably due to Allison handling it, so blood splatter analysis was impossible, but by the amount of it, there is only one way how it could have gotten on it. The blood is Danielle's. The shirt matches to William's shirt size and his DNA was find inside of it. Only his. DNA profile extracted from hairs found on the back of it also matches to him. DNA analysis also proved that hair found on the front side of the shirt matches to Danielle. "

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows."So, William will be indicted for three counts of murder in the 1st degree. Allison will be sentenced to twenty five years and go to prison. If she behaves herself, she will get out in ten-fifteen to continue where she stopped", he said before throwing a rubber ball, that he kept in his pocket, against the wall in anger.

"Her money will be confiscated. Do you really think that she will be able to build back her criminal empire from a scratch?"

Sherlock glared at her. "Well, she and her boyfriend already did it once, didn't they? And Sheila will not go to prison."

Joan remained quiet, looking down on the floor. Sherlock observed her. It didn't take him long to deduce-realize-what she was thinking. Feeling. "You don't think that William is guilty, do you?"

Joan raised her head to meet his eyes. "That's why I brought the files here. On an USB, in my purse. Because we are short with time. And we can't let her get away."

Sherlock smiled at her. "That's the spirit." Joan chuckled for a moment, surprising Sherlock. He groaned, standing up. "Start without me. I need to make us both some tea... and coffee."

"Good idea", Joan agreed.

"OK", Sherlock said, finishing his fifth cup of coffee. "I think that we all know what happened here."

He turned towards Joan, who was just finishing her second cup of coffee.

They were going through the files and reports for hours, until they finally decided to take a break and take a fresh look on things and theorizing that they gathered. Sherlock started first.

"Facts first. All family members were shot to death with a shotgun. Father was killed in the kitchen, shot in the chest. Mother locked herself in the bathroom, apparently after the killer went after her: the killer broke inside and shot her in the face. Their daughter was in her room when the murder happened: upon hearing the shots, hid herself under the bed and called 911. Before she could finish the call, the killer found her and shot her in the hand, ruining her phone in process. He then dragged her to the door and shot her in the back of the head." He stood up and started pacing around the room. "It was all a plan devised by Allison. William likely complained to her about his financial situation lately and often asked her for loans. She probably stalked the family for some time in order to study their habits and find the best way to gain access to their home, doing her best not to be seen by anyone. She also started stalking William too. She found out that he is usually home alone after eight pm, which is when most of the family was at home as well. One night, Allison sneaked in William's workplace and stole the gloves that William had used first. She also stole the shotgun from the gun store near William's home and several days later she borrowed his truck, probably promising him to give him the loan sooner in an exchange. That night, at about nine pm, she drove to Bingham's family house, put William's gloves over her own gloves, broke inside the house with a shotgun and killed them all. In order to make it appear that money was the motive, she ranshacked the house and stole all the cash before fleeing. She stored the gloves in a plastic bag, probably before stealing the money to make sure that no blood would get on it, and drove away in William's truck. She changed her clothes and probably disposed of it later, dumped the shotgun in a lake, cleaned up the truck and returned it to William the next day day. She later stored the bag in safe deposit box and borrowed the money stolen from Bingham's house to William days after the murder as a loan that she had promised him. Sixteen months later, she decided to create herself the next fail safe, she started stalking William again. She stole William's switchblade and picked up his ripped shirt from the trash. She murdered a random woman using that switchblade, at the time when she knew William wouldn't have an alibi, smeared the blood on his shirt, burried the murder weapon in the forest, stored the shirt properly and stored it in the safe deposit box too."

Joan frowned. "Why would she do that?"

"It happened eighteen months ago, at about the time when she killed Melissa, a person who shared a workplace with her. With her progressing to murders that can easily be attributed to her, and her drug business still expanding, she knew that she had to find a patsy, somebody to rat out to police in an exchange for a deal. Due to the extend of her crimes, it would have to be a pretty good deal, meaning that a crime she would help to solve would have to be especially gruesome. Instead of finding a patsy, she made one."

Suddenly, Joan's eyes widened. She finally spotted a clue, remembered something that she read, actually: she wasn't sure could it link Allison to murders, but it was something. "An interesting thing", she read, "there were signs of a forced entery on the back door. That was the killer's point of entery. Traces of blood prove that the killer came out through the back door after commiting the murders too. Glove print proves that the killer was wearing gloves, but there was no fingerprints find on the back door. Like somebody wiped them clean. And all other objects in the house were covered with fingertips."

"Did you read William's version of event?", Sherlock asked her.

"Yes. He denies everything and claims that he kept a lot of that kind of gloves all over his workplace at the time. Anyone could have taken a pair without him noticing. After police interrogated him, he grew suspicious and confronted Allison about the matter, but since she managed to convince him that she has nothing to do with that and making drugs for her was his source of income, he didn't pursue the matter further."

Sherlock sighed and raised the file above his head before exclaiming: "Forensics found traces of powder on and inside the gloves. Same like the one applied on and inside latex gloves."

"Forensic techs also wear latex gloves", Joan noticed. "And so did the specialists who inspected the gloves in laboratory and conducted the DNA analysis. They were both handling the gloves, they turned the gloves inside out and swabbed them for DNA. That traces are not the proof that somebody wore that gloves over their own, even less a proof of a frame up. Also, Allison has an alibi. She was at work at the time of a murder."

"The murder happened eighteen months ago. The only thing that can prove that is her old employee card. We already know that she managed sneak out while Sheils was covering for her. But still, even that kind of an alibi is better than William's, or, rather, his lack of it."

Joan continued studying the files on her computer screan, slightly discouraged.

"The only other suspect was their neighbor, Jerry Glover", she read out loud.

"I already looked into that. I don't see how he could be of any help."

Joan, however, continued reading, feeling that she was on to something. "He was a registered sex offender, convicted twice for stalking and taking photographs of a young women, and he lived alone, having moved in a year before, soon after being released from prison. They interrogated him but he denied any involvement. GSR test was negative, but they found traces of his blood on an air vent girder in Amy's room and also some inside the air vent and on the floor. There was no other DNA, fingerprints or trace evidence found on that idoms. All the blood and all the other fingerprints found on the scene matched to the victims themselves. He claimed that his blood was on that idom because Amy asked him, as any good neighbor, to help her screw the girder back on day before the murder. The girder was on at the time of the murder, marks indicated that the grind had been tampered with, and an air vent wss empty, but nobody could confirm that particular claim of his. He had no alibi: he claimed that he was home alone and that he didn't hear the shots because he was listening to music. He was never charged with the murder, but had been considrered a prime suspect up until recently, until William's arrest. Soon after the murder, he moved to Manhattan, where he still lives."

She stopped for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around that weird chain of information and clues. Air vent grind... Jerry Glover, the neighbor, a sex offender... stalker... his blood... air vent... no fingerprints on the back door... Jerry was stalking young women... a missing cloth...

Finally, Joan came to a solution. Everything suddenly fit perfectly into her mind, suddenly everything s made sense. Even she herself was surprised. Joan shivered at the breathtaking feeling. Within seconds after the realization, she exclaimed: "You were right, she killed them. And I think I know how to prove that ."

#

"Here's the thing", Thomas explained. "There was another suspect in Bingham family murder. A registered sex offender, Jerry Glover. A convicted stalker."

Allison shrugged, smug still staying firm on her lips. "So? We all know that William did it."

"Perhaps", Marcus firmly stated. "But, with the help of our consultant, Joan Watson, we recently uncovered some new... information."

"He grew fixated on their daughter, Amy, and started stalking her too", Joan explained. "That time, however, he went one step further. He sneaked in their house and planted the camera in an air vent in Amy's room. He lied, he did hear the shots that night. He went to their house to check things out. His house was positioned in a way that the fastest way to get inside their house was through the back door. You closed the door behind before leaving, but the lock was broken and he managed to get inside. He found in the kitchen. Due to that discovery and the fact that he didn't hear anyone in the house, he concluded that Amy was dead too. He knew that the mere fact that he was a registered sex offender living next door to them would make him a prime suspect, and if anyone would find that camera, they would probably be able to trace it back to him."

"He found a cloth in the kitchen and completely wiped the back door clean of fingerprints", Marcus continued. "Amy's bedroom door were open. He ran inside, removed the air vent girder and took the camera. However, in a hurry, he cut himself. He used the cloth to wipe the air vent grind clean off his fingerprints and used it to handle the grind while putting it back on, and also used it to wipe traces of blood and stop his bleeding, but some blood still remained there. He then ran outside through the back door, that he left wide often."

Allison's eyes widened. Logic and plausibility of the theory seemed to have made at least some impact on her. Still, she remained calm, and silent. And so did her lawyer.

"He knew that turning the tape over to the police would help police catch the killer, but would also prove that he not only stalked Amy but also violated his parole, so he never turned it over to them", Thomas explained. "He could have offered the tape under conditions that he doesn't go to prison, but he didn't want to take that risk. He did, however, keep the tape as his fail safe, in case someone ever gets around to charging him with the murders."

"We interrogated him about the matter and he denied everything. But a judge issued a search warrant for his apartment and car. We didn't find the tape", Thomas said. "But we found photographs and videotapes that prove that he had been stalking his neighbor and co worker for months. When confronted with the evidence, he admitted where he hid the tape. In an exchange in an for a lighter sentence."

"We saw a person who shot their daughter, Amy. A female person. She wasn't wearing a mask or anything to cover her face. But we don't have to tell you who that person is, don't we?"

"Save it. The deal is off. But, legally, we are still allowed to use mrs Davis's confession. Your client will be charged for 1st degree murder of Alyssa Smith and Melissa Gonzales, and dozens counts of illegal possession of evidence and drug related offences. Add that three counts of murder in the 1st degree, multiple counts of burglary and theft, tampering with evidence... she is looking at several consecutive life sentences."

"And if you think that one of your partners will continue your scheme from outside, think again. We had no direct evidence against Sheila, but once we confronted her with what we found out, she cracked anyway. She is making the deal with the prosecutors as we speak. Even so, she will spend at least two to three decades in prison. William will probably be out in ten years or so, but given what he's been through and that he realized that you framed him, I doubt that he would want to have anything to do with drugs or you ever again. Not to mention that, given the charges you are facing, you will have little to no contact with the outside world for the rest of your life."

"Every one will receive probation extending from two to ten years. If they don't want to risk going to prison and paying one hundred thousand dollars fine, they will have to attend drug counseling and give their blood to analysis once a month."

"My... partner and I separated months ago, but I am still on relatively good terms with his father. The dancers that smuggled drugs for you will receive probation and I made sure that they get a job in one of his companies that is stationated in New York. They will finally get a respectable jobs and stay away from the bad crowd."

"The money that you made by spelling drugs will be confiscated. After the trial, most of it will be used to finance drug prevention projects and studies. Part of it will be given to the owner of the club you worked in, . After all the bad publicity and without his cocktail waitresses, his dancers and most of his regular clients, he has to close it. Hopefully that will teach him to keep an eye on his employees and always run a background check. We have no evidence to link you to Danielle Gray's murder, but with everything else we have, we don't need them. And, in the light of recent events, prosecutor decided not to charge William with her murder." "And believe me, I will make sure that her family finds out who did that to her and why."

Allison remained silent. Her lawyer looked shocked. She didn't even blink when Marcus ordered her to stand up and handcuff her.

"You probably think that you are so clever, huh? That you are a hero", she exclaimed more so than asked, her tone jadded. "But the truth is, you accomplished nothing. Not in the long terms anyway. Somebody else will take my place within months. That's a circle. A law of the crime world. Of the street, of the nature. It never ends. You will only hurt yourself by trying to change it."

"I guess I'll just have to make sure that it does", Joan firmly stated as Allison was taken away, followed by her lawyer. Slowly, Thomas and Joan also left the interrogation room, Thomas closing the door behind. Joan sighed at the sound of the door closing, suddenly being overwhelmed by strange mixture of contradictory emotion: relief and tension, satisfaction and disappointment. Her gaze stopped at Judith Morgan, who had been sitting on the bench next to the interrogation room. Her eyes were watery, her skin was pale.

"She disposed of his body?", Judith asked, looking at Allison being taken away.

Joan nodded her head. "Yes."

"And sold him drugs?"

"She will never be released, I assure you", Joan said, rather than confirming Judith's suspicion.

Judith let out a gasp and looked away. "I should have known. I should have seen the signs."

Joan stepped a bit closer to her. "You couldn't. I worked with addicts for years. I know that very often there is no way..."

Judith turned to face her. Joan's mind felt like frozen for a moment, she couldn't think off what to say. Judith's eyes were watery, her fists clenched.

"Save it", Judith said. "Thank you for helping with the case, I really appreciate it, and I am going to pay you, but just... don't."

Joan remained silent. Judith eyed her for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together, and then she turned around and walked away.

#

It was close to seven pm when Sherlock and Joan met in Central Park, on the bench under a big oak tree. Close to seven pm when Joan finished explaining how everything ended to Sherlock.

"You did great, Watson", he admitted. "Thank you for allowing me to help you with the case."

"Thank you", Joan replied.

They spent the next minute in an uncomfortable silence. They both knew what was supposed to happen next, but couldn't come clean regarding the matter.

"So... you are going back to London? Continuing your work with MI6?", Joan asked,

Sherlock swallowed hard, answering Joan coming off almost as painful to him. "Yes. Yes I do. This very night."

"We drifted apart, Joan. It is better this way."

Joan nodded her head, feeling cold shivers going down her spine. She forced the answer. "Yes, it is."

~TWO WEEKS LATER~

Joan stretched herself out on her armchair before continuing her phone conversation with captain Gregson. "Yes, I think you should definitely examine that storage locker." She closed the file and put it on the table near by before running her eyes. "OK, hear from you later. Thank you." Joan then hanged up and sighed. She found it hard to... "get back on the track" since Sherlock's last visit, and she still wasn't sure why exactly, but she felt that everything started going back to normal since recently.

Sound of her doorbell ringing surprised her. She stood up, walked toward the doors, unlocked them and opened them, too distracted to bother to look through the peephole.

She couldn't believe her eyes at first. Sherlock Holmes was standing on her doorway, dressed in his usual cardigan and scarf. Now without disguise.

(Music: _Come As You Are_ by Nirvana)

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, me." He sounded almost ashamed somehow. "I am not planning to bother you, I just need to say you something. Can I come in, please?"

Still shocked, Joan let him inside, closing and locking the door behind. Sherlock paced around apartment a little, like he was building up a courage for something, before he spoke. "I have to inform you that I no longer work for MI6."

"Why? And why do you have to inform me?"

"I... I realized that working for them... does not suit me. That it is not what I want in life. That is what I told them."

Joan glared at him, finding that whole story hard to believe. "They just... let you go?"

"I asked them. Politely. Needless to say, they were very unimpressed with my suggestion. Finally, they agreed to let me go, but only in an exchange for me a solving a case for them. A very dangerous and very complicated case. That is why I was gone for two weeks. But I managed to do it and as soon as they fired me, I traveled back here, to New York. I even broke some laws while solving that case myself. Nothing too serious, but still serious enough to get me in trouble if I try to reveal some of the MI6 secrets to anyone. That was their intention, probably." He sighed, feeling his palms sweating. "Anyway, I had to lay low for a few days, to make sure that nobody was following me. Nobody does, as I deduced. And, so I am here. Asking you... begging you to take me back."

Shivers seared through his voice as he said the last sentence. Joan could swear that she saw his lower lip trembling. But she remained calm, even cold. She was not going to let him back in her life, at least not easily. He didn't deserve that.

"Why would I do that?", she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "You said it yourself, our... relationship is no longer the same. We drifted apart. Or did we?"

"We did", Sherlock agreed. "To a certain degree, yes. And I am not going to deny that some of my reasons for... distancing myself from you were well-intended. But the way I did it was selfish, stupid and completely unjustifiable. Like most of the act itself, I have to admit. The only good that came out of all this is that I finally realized how much you mean to me, how much what we have-what we had-meant and still means to me... it made me realize that something as simple as the change in ones living arrangements should have never came between us." He took a deep breath, looking away for a moment before locking eyes with Joan again. Her facial expression did not change. "I was, to put it simply, an idiot. A selfish idiot. And I can't do anything but apologize to you and beg for your forgiveness." He took one more deep breath, his gaze ever so slightly falling down on to the floor before meeting Joan's again. "I'm sorry. Please forgive me. Please take me back. It won't be easy, we both know that. But now I also know that we can work this out. That we can... drift back. I want us to work this out, no matter what it takes. I believe that you know-and want-that too. I don't want to throw our partnership away", he finished, her voice almost breaking at the end.

Almost immediately after he finished, Joan slapped him over the face again, this time even harder than two weeks ago. He almost lost balanced, sharp pain burning through his cheek. It took a few seconds for blurriness in his eyes to disappear. Almost in shock, eyes widened, with his heart thundering against his chest, he looked up at Joan, expecting the worst.

"OK. I will take you back."

Sherlock's eyes widened. He slowly regained balance, still stroking his cheek painfully.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Joan stepped aside and looked Sherlock in the eyes. "This won't be easy."

"I know."

"It will take time. I am not sure will I ever be able to trust you like I used to."

Sherlock nodded his head. "I am willing to accept that."

"OK", Joan said softly.

"So... about the brownstone..."

"I made no changes regarding the brownstone after you left for the second time. An act of a good will, I suppose", she shrugged. "I have the key here. You can crash in there this very night if you want." She formed a small smile. "Despite everything, I look forward to working with you again."

Sherlock nodded his head, pain in his cheek still present. "Though captain Gregson and Marcus will be much less impressed, I believe. I doubt that Thomas would employee me again, on the same position as you."

"Probably", Joan agreed. "But I think I know how to take care of that."

~THE END~

**A/N: Yes, this is the ending... I tried to make the story seem a lot like an actual episode (although it may ended up being a little longer than the average Elementary episode), while in the same**** time adding some emotional development. I hope that it worked well and that this story helped you deal with this horrible hiatus! I like to think that something like that will happen in an actual season three premiere, although there will probably be much more Andrew and also Kitty getting in the way. Oh, well... I have a sequel in plan, but it my take a while before I may be able to write it. The sequel will have Sherlock and Joan spending much more time together (they couldn't exactly do that in this story, due to the circumstances) and will explore Joan's and Andrew's relationship. I tried to add this into this story but couldn't find a way to do that. It will also focus on emotional development much more. Anyway... until the next time, folks! Love ya all xx.**


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